Refugees
by Warrior of Ice
Summary: Seven planets have fallen, the Outer Princesses and Queen Serenity gone, and the Inners have teleported to treacherous Earth to search for a way to Pluto. The King-Generals and their prince won't help them find the way, but they can give them love...
1. Name Index

Name Index  
  
Princess of the Moon: Selena Annamika (grace, new moon)  
  
Queen of Venus: Mina Kiora (love)  
  
Queen of Jupiter: Lita Ardice (flowering field)  
  
Queen of Mars: Rei Isadora (gift of isis)  
  
Queen of Mercury: Ami Meriel (shining sea)  
  
Prince of the Earth: Dare Nitesh (heartbeat of the Earth)  
  
King/General of the North: Kunzite Roshaun (shining light)  
  
King/General of the East: Jade Pyralis (of fire)  
  
King/General of the West: Zoi Marinel (of the sea)  
  
King/General of the South: Neph Sylvain (of the forest)  
  
Author's Note  
  
This is during the Silver Millennium, but there is no Silver Alliance.  
  
Endymion is the Prince of the Earth, but currently, his distant relation, whom he will refer to as an uncle, is ruling.  
  
Earth, with the aid of Metallia, has taken over the other planets of the Solar System, except Pluto, which has not fallen yet.  
  
At the beginning of the story, the girls have just teleported to the Earth from the Moon, which is a pile of dust and rubble.  
  
To protect themselves, the gals are using different names than Selena, Mina, Rei, Lita, and Ami. They've chosen Earthen names with specific meanings (check character index). They are also the queens of their planets (everyone else = x.X), _not_ senshi. Senshi do not exist anymore. But anyway, they're still Selena's protectors. Why did I name Serenity Selena? *shrug* I just felt like a change.  
  
Because the generals are the Four Kings (a.k.a. the Shittenou), they also have doubled names. Also, they are not very well known yet among Earthen people, so they can travel in anonymity. The gens have not been presented yet in Elysion, which is currently a center of Metallia, because Earth has been busy taking over the rest of the Solar System. They're very young, and their fathers were the last generation of generals, but they died overtaking the over planets. 


	2. Current Events

Foreword: Current Events  
It was extremely ironic that the danger to the Solar System had come from the Sun, light and life source of the many planets and satellites of the Milky Way. Earth had aligned itself with an unconquerable evil and had been swallowed by Metallia's uncompromising hunger in the process. Slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, the tendrils of darkness began wrapping the world in a loving death grip, merely the barest traces of shadow. The first attack had been a complete surprise, as well as a crushing blow: Uranus, strongest among the planets of the Silver Alliance, had fallen first. Their princess had been captured, along with her lover-Neptune's ruler. The neighboring planet had gone next, and Saturn's destruction had followed rather suddenly, close on its heels. The planet's young princess was also in Earth's custody-and Metallia's. The previously bright and beautiful rings of Saturn had been darkened in the planet's tragic downfall. Then fell the Inner Planets: Jupiter, Mars, Venus, and finally Mercury. It seemed that Metallia had wished to move from the edge of the system inwards until she reached the great burning gas ball from which she had arrived. There were, however, no princesses captured this time around, for they had all been on the Moon as handmaidens to the Princess Selena of that satellite.   
But the Moon, center point of the Silver Alliance, was no safe haven. It too, fell, and Queen Selenity was whisked away to the deepest and most secret dungeons within Elysion-no one knew whether or not she had seen the young Outer royalty there. Her daughter, along with her four guardians, disappeared just when victory against them seemed unavoidable. And even as their people lay bloodied, dying, and beaten, it seemed as if the sun shone for a brief instant from behind gloomy gray clouds. They were the only hope left for the future, these five young women. Each of them were every inch a princess with the purest blue blood of their planets running through their veins-not that either of these two characteristics would help them...for Selena, Mina, Lita, Rei, and Ami had been unable to escape to the only protected planet left in the Solar System: Pluto. It would have been pointless to teleport with what was left over of their precious energy to some dark and blooded planet overrun with youma and other evidence of Metallia's triumphs.   
Instead, the leader of the guard, the Princess of Venus, had chosen a nearby planet...a planet whose mere mention would leave a vile, bitter taste in their mouths, for the planet had been the key to Metallia's escape. The beautiful blue and green globe, perfectly suspended in the twinkling darkness of space-a natural black compared to Metallia's, a sphere that had lost its four generals overthrowing and destroying the rightful monarchy of the seven planets and one satellite, an orb with an environment formed by nature and reality rather than magic and crystal..a place called Earth: Terra.   
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	3. Ten in the Forest

Prologue: Ten in the Forest  
The golden-haired one staggered upright after their insane teleport, trained reflexes causing her to glance around at the seemingly deserted patch of forest they had landed in. Once she was satisfied that they were temporarily alone, she hauled the girl next to her upright. While the action looked harsh, her hands were gentle without the intention of hurting or bruising, and the silver-haired princess looked up at her with absolute trust and faith.   
"Listen up, everyone," Mina demanded in Lunari, knowing full well the risk she took speaking the forbidden language on the previously forbidden planet, "our first priority is the Moon Princess. Our mission is to either get to Pluto and seek help there or to attempt to rescue the Queen and the Outers here on Earth, in Elysion." She spat out the Terran names as if clearing a bad taste from her mouth. Somehow, the disgust and resentment in her tone did not match the honey-sweet pitch. Switching to Terran, she said slowly, deliberately, "We will need new names, of course. Selena, you will now be Annamika-new moon, which you are-or will you be." She did not quite meet Selena's-the newly-christened Annamika's-guileless crystal blue eyes, and neither did the other three young women cast their gazes near her. No one knew for certain whether the Queen of the Moon was still alive... "Lita, you will be called Ardice-flowering field. Rei, Isadora-gift of isis. Ami, you are Meriel, the shining sea."   
Intense purple eyes, nearly too perceptive, hid their own hurt well as the blonde was caught by their deep and searching look. "And what about you?" Isadora inquired softly. Her next question, although equally quiet, seemed to echo forever and shattered the silence of the still forest. "Who will you be, Mina?"   
"Kiora." Before she could explain the meaning of her name, since she was the most proficient in the Terran language (besides Meriel), they tensed when they felt, rather than heard, the presence of other human beings closing in upon them from the edges of the forest.  
Without being asked to, Isadora reached out, questing with perfection, to touch their auras and drew back hurriedly. In response to the questioning glances of her companions, she whispered, "There are five men in this part of the forest. They're good-very good-at moving noiselessly and are probably planning to take us by surprise."  
Grimly, with a tight smile, Kiora replied, "Well, they aren't going to. How do they feel?"  
"Um...it's so strange-almost like our auras but different, so very different. One feels like the whispers of the stars and the wind through the forest in a deep, navy blue light; another is frigid, icy green like the breakers of a stormy sea; the third is all bright silver, but whether it's light or stone based I can't tell...the fourth-the fourth _burns_ a bright azure blue. The last is odd, like a combination of them all but to a lesser degree with each. He feels like the packed dirt under our feet and the clear skies above, like-like Earth personified," the raven-haired woman whispered.  
The one next to her had dark chestnut hair, the color of vigorous young redwood trees: brown with a touch of deep red. "When we have the time and safety, you may pursue the study of their persons further, Isa, but we must leave here immediately."  
"How? They've already sensed our presence," Meriel pointed out logically, dark blue eyes calm as all her senses rose to maximum alertness.  
"I can use the crystal," came the tremulous offer. Selena had never had to use the Imperium Silver Crystal out of her lessons before, and in her mind, the only rightful holder of the crystal could be her mother-who had left the object in her possession when she had shoved her beloved daughter in the middle of the square formed by the Inner Princesses...  
"No! You'll die if you exceed your limits, and we have no energy left to support you.. Two teleports in one day will kill you, particularly since the first was from the Moon to the Earth and the second being a blind leap." Kiora's cornflower blue eyes burned with intensity and concentration. She was looking at Annamika but also beyond her, into the distance. It was night and as dark as the bottom of an abyss (a contradiction unto itself), but she was seeking with her powers rather than her eyes. Another thing that made the monarchy of the planets so desirable to Metallia was the powerful magik that ran through their veins. It was particularly strong in the five girls. "They have weapons, weapons of good quality and craftsmanship. The metal calls to me..and so does blood. These arms are beautiful and old, but they have seen many, many kills."  
As they gazed in desperation at the surrounding brush and each other, Meriel's soft voice broke through the clearing, cool and direct. "There is no choice but the crystal. We may not all perish if-if one of us stays behind, as an anchor of sorts. It's one less person to transport, and if these men are as gifted as they are made out to be, the anchor could probably distract them for a while. Long enough for the other four of us to escape."  
Glaring in her general direction, more out of fear of what she sensed in her friend's resigned voice than anger, Isadora snapped, "And I suppose you're volunteering to be that anchor? Not if I have a say in the matter, Meriel. It's damned suicidal, and I won't stand for it. Not from any of you."  
Kiora was about to reprimand her for her hasty words, spoken in Lunari, but the brunette woman's decisive voice cut in first, low and velvety. "We have a duty, Isa. I will anchor." When she was met with furious protests and denial, Ardice retorted, "I am the only possible choice, and we are running short on time, ladies." She smiled around at them sadly. "Must I hurt you all by telling you why? Annamika, obviously, must go. Kiora is our leader, and she cannot be captured any more than our princess. Isa, you are valuable for your aura-reading powers, and in enemy hands, I shudder to think how Terrans would react to your headstrong, tempestuous manner."  
"And me, Ardice?" Meriel inquired softly.  
"Forgive me for saying this, but you aren't strong enough-and don't spout all this nonsense about how you can be sacrificed. You were already wounded when you tried to bring in the dying. It must be me." She had made up her mind, and there was no swaying inherently stubborn Jovians.  
"Very well," the blonde agreed, although her heart cried out at the betrayal of her mind. Before any of the others could continue their vehement disagreement, she grabbed the hands of the two closest to her and thrust forth what power she had left to give. She nearly cried out in frustration when their powers pooled, collected, joined-and fell short. 'We must do this,' she reminded herself, 'and I lead.' Suddenly, brilliant gold radiated outwards from Kiora, energy she had not known she had possessed. Similar blazing colors shot forth: red, green, blue, and finally silver...and the world exploded in rainbows of light as four of the five princesses vanished...to leave one behind.   
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	4. Under a Crescent Moon

Chapter 1: Under a Crescent Moon  
  
~*~ Heart's Storm ~*~  
Ardice groaned painfully as the light of the teleport assaulted her senses with its magnitude. Raising her head fractionally, she blinked rapidly, trying to clear the spots from her dazzled vision. Strong, unfamiliar fingers brushed her cheek gently, and she flinched away-only to bump into a pair of legs that felt as solid as trees. She barely remembered to form the syllables of the coarse Terran language as she mumbled, "Leave me alone."  
"It would be most helpful if you stopped struggling, my lady." The voice was fairly close to her, which meant the speaker was directly in front of her.  
'Good,' Ardice thought savagely. When he reached out to touch her a second time, this time with fingers wet with something cool and soothing to her throbbing eyelids, she kicked out instinctively and smiled triumphantly when her booted foot met its mark.  
"Oof," he grunted, out of pain and shock. He was General Neph Sylvain, King of the South, and no woman-or man, for that matter-had scored such a clear hit on him since he had been but a boy. Suddenly, rough hands pulled him upright before he could jerk away (for his manly pride), and Sylvain found himself staring into mocking azure eyes.  
"You know, Sylvain, a man of your years and experience should hardly be bested by a mere lass," the blonde man chided. His curling golden hair fell in short waves over his head and into his light blue eyes, and there was humorous grin on his handsome face-all of which (the eyes, the hair, and the grin) along with his charming personality, had enchanted a sizeable percentage of the female population in each of their four kingdoms combined.  
Sylvain was _not_ drawn in by the smirk and replied with a few vulgar remarks about where he could take and what he would do with his unwanted comments.   
Pyralis merely flashed him a wide grin and turned his attention back to the girl.  
Meanwhile, Ardice had rejoiced in the return of her sight-and looked up to meet frigid green eyes that reminded her of new leaves encased in ice. She shivered at the coldness radiating from him.  
"It is unwise in these lands to attack those that are trying to help you." The man addressed her impersonally, tone and manner neutral.  
Despite his relaxed stance, a contrast to the seemingly stone-limbed man next to him (whose legs she had accidentally come into contact with moments before), Ardice sensed the readiness in his lanky form and tensed. 'Remember,' her mind admonished, 'there was a reason for this escape to Earth: to keep you alive. It wouldn't do any good for you to be rash and get yourself killed by these men, would it? Think! Kiora agreed with you, because she knew Isa would be her fiery, headstrong self-no matter what.' She bowed her head and let shimmering, dark brown tresses fall forward in shining waves. 'It was a cowardly thing to do, fleeing from the Moon. My life is worth nothing.' Before the other half of her inner voice could retort, she felt icy hard fingers dig into her shoulders. The pressure was bearable, but the stinging coolness of his touch sank through her clothing to raise unsettled prickles on her skin.  
Zoi Marinel was the King of the West, had been well-educated as a child, and picked up on anything and everything-including her hair color, her eye color, the clothes she wore, and the lilt to her sweet voice. "Your name and your purpose in these woods, if you please."  
Blinking up at him, Ardice replied in bemusement, "Surely you don't expect me to tell five men, perfect strangers to me, my name in the dead of night in some dark forest? Oh, but it seems I've forgotten your singularly _helpful_ nature."  
Marinel's eyes met hers, moonlight-the pale, silver light brought a choked feeling to her throat-emphasizing his deftly-carved features and the sharp angles of his face. "My friend over there used a salve on your eyes to allow you to see once more, and your repayment of his foolish kindness was to lash out and throw him against a tree. Tell me, do many women have such good reflexes-not to mention instinctual knowledge of what's before them, half-blind-so they can hurl a man several feet away? I think not. And you clearly possess magik, however you may try to deny it." When her eyes widened perceptibly as she tried to struggle out of his hold, Marinel barely moved as his fingers tightened their hold. He almost had it...there. This woman, whoever she was, had subconsciously been fighting his sincere attempts to reach her inner core, from which he had to heal her rather extensive injuries. Normally he would not have been so quick to heal, but Roshaun had sent him a telepathic command to do so-for the Commander General wished a word about these strange lights in the forest. "Yes, magik," he continued smoothly, "for there are but four of the five men of our company visible. Nitesh-it appears you may emerge from your comfortable clump of underbrush now. I ask you once more your name and purpose-and I will not ask again. If you do not answer this time, the next inquirer will be the King of the Earth. And if you think I'm being a ruthless bastard, I assure you that he is much worse-and of my legitimacy."  
Pyralis grinned slightly, for he had always enjoyed toying with the biting humor of his green/gray-eyed friend. Stepping forward, he tapped the other blonde man's shoulder. Marinel looked backwards for a split second, nodded slowly, and eased off. Sylvain cast him a look of gratitude that they both ignored.   
"My name-my name is Ardice." Suddenly, she felt as if there was a crushing weight upon her eyelids, and she was dismayed to find that her line of sight was blurring once more. Looking up through long, chocolate lashes at them accusingly, she asked, "What did you do to me?"  
"He's healing you." The soft, comforting voice met Ardice's ears just as she drifted off. As she crumped to the ground, Sylvain caught her gently and looked around at his four companions-none of which appeared particularly pleased with him.   
  
~*~ Avoiding the Inevitable ~*~  
Isadora, wary of her new location, was met with a harsh, stinging wind. Within seconds, her bared skin and lips felt chapped and dry. The second thing her mind registered was a starting coolness. She cracked open her eyes, which were gritty and sandy, and nearly fainted when she saw what was before her: miles and miles of endless tan sands, as far as her eye could see, with no help anywhere at all. There seemed to be no life in this desert, not even plants-there was nothing between her and the frighteningly low sky. Isadora pushed back her thick fall of luxurious, dark raven hair, getting to her feet as she stared at the heavens above. The Moon was a glowing silver crescent, dangling so close to her that she could imagine reaching out and touching it, plucking it out of the sky to hold close to her. There were stars, too-great twinkling white lights tha were as bright as diamonds.   
But the Moon had reminded her of her friends, the falling of the Kingdom of Light, and...her home. Isadora felt her knees give way at last and cursed herself fiercely. She was so alone, with only the enticing beauty of a satellite and gleaming balls of gas for company. She stiffened when a great pearly droplet fell upon her finger. Stranded in some forsaken, isolated spot of sparse desert without any supplies or hopes of finding any, Isadora knew better than to waste her body's precious water reserves. She knew she should go on, pick a random direction and walk on and on in hopes of finding shelter or aid (although it seemed entirely improbable), but she was so tired and weary. There were numerous bruises and slashes all over her body, it was a chilly desert night in frigid air, and her clothing, which had never been considered sheer until now, was tattered and torn from the battle on the Moon and falling into the forest.   
Curling up on the smooth sands beneath her, Isadora assumed a fetal position and shut her eyes tightly to prevent the tears from escaping. Before long, that lone figure was the only being beneath the stars and above the moonlit sands.  
  
~*~ Prince of Ice ~*~  
Meriel gasped, instinctively trying to draw in breaths of fresh air, and fell to her knees as a dozen cold knives cut into her chest and lungs, filling them with icy wind. Tears dripped down her cheeks and froze there as her delicate skin was scraped raw in a matter of seconds. The dark-haired girl tried to stand once more, but this time, she slipped on the frozen crust of ice beneath her-or was hurled down by the howling wind that brought onslaught after onslaught of biting sleet. Meriel lay with her cheek pressed to the hard ground, crumpled and battered like a rag doll thrown against a wall. She reached up to touch her stinging lips, and her fingers came away darkened with scarlet blood. There was no way to stand, no help, and no hope.   
All at once, Kiora's sunny-sweet voice spoke in her mind. 'Love. My name means love-may you all have the opportunity to find it somewhere and sometime. I love you all; good luck."  
She struggled to hold back tears. It was so like her friend to wish for everyone except herself. But where was the hope in these polar wastelands where she had landed? Their miraculous, desperate teleport had worked-and brought Meriel to an icy tomb where she would freeze and die, buried in a casket of frozen snow and ice...fitting, somehow, in a way she could not and did not want to describe.  
  
~*~ Falling in Love With Love ~*~  
Annamika's dainty nose, unused to the odors that reached it, wrinkled in her sleep at the stench rising from the bogs. Her faithful guardian and fellow princess stared in half-fascination, half-disgust at the murky, oily yellow-brown swamp they had landed in. Bubbles rose to the greasy surface sluggishly, popping one by one in a hiccup-like manner. Mud slurped back from the edges of the pools of liquid in sucking sounds, clinging to the dirt and rock not yet eroded. Sulphurous gas rose in thick, veiling mists from the strangely steaming ponds. Sighing, Kiora bent down near her sleeping friend, slumped on the dirty ground, and passed her hand gently over the glowing crystal embedded in a brooch nestled on her chest. When the light faded, she bent down and murmured, "Sweetheart, do you want me to carry you, or can you stand?"  
Startled awake from her doze, the silver-haired princess looked up at her wearily as she attempted to struggle to her feet. "I'll-I'll try, Mi-Kiora. Where are we?" she inquired sleepily as she stumbled over some stones in their path.   
Shaking her head, the blonde woman scooped the other up in her arms and replied, "Somewhere on Earth in a deserted swamp, thank Selene for the deserted part. Come on, put your arms around my neck so you don't slip and fall."  
Even as she complied sleepily, Annamika protested, "You're tired, Mina, and I'm too heavy."  
"Call me Kiora," she reminded gently, steadying her questionable hold and footing. It would be a long, perilous journey to find safety and her queen. Kiora bit her lip and cast her thoughts determinedly away from Venus; she looked up at the crescent moon glimmering through the marshy foliage and prayed, 'Selene, may we all survive in the end and meet again...someday.'  
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AN: Hm. It seems that things are shorter when they're not typed. *shrug* At least it's better quality writing (I hope). I hope everything is okay with the revised version of Refugees...this is how I'm going to do it, instead of splitting into four books with chapters, I'm splitting it into chapters with uh...books. ^^;; I hope you understand what I'm talking about. Hope, hope, hope. Lots of hope usage. (If this note seems a little weird, it's because it's very late at night-for me-and my brain no longer functions after a certain hour.) Hope you enjoyed. ~Ice 


	5. Salvation or Not

Chapter 2: Salvation...or Not 

~*~ Heart's Storm ~*~

            When Ardice awoke, it was to mounds and mounds of snowy sheets piled so heavy that it weighted down her tired bones. The enormous bed was magnificent, with fanciful curtains of dark blue silk–the color joggled her memory, but she couldn't quite recall what they reminded her of. Perhaps it was the rich night background of the stars... The numerous coverings were as fluffy and warm as those she had previously been accustomed to on the Moon and when she had lived in the Jovian palace. In fact, their heat and heaviness was nearly suffocating, and she struggled to free herself from the confines of the blankets. Her joints creaked in protest at her renewed activity after a blissful night of undisturbed rest. As she fell back onto the mountainous mound of feather pillows, Ardice frowned as her auburn curls cascaded into her view. Brushing them away, she examined them carefully, noting the glossy sheen that meant that they had been washed recently...but she didn't remember doing anything of the sort. The last thing she remembered was...was... 

            Everything came back suddenly: the news that her beloved home planet had fallen, that all the other planets had been attacked, raided, and destroyed; the awesome, alabaster white pillars of the Moon Palace falling, the formerly indestructible Moon Kingdom bowing under the mighty power of Metallia; the cowardly teleport to Earth to save Annamika, how Ardice had remained behind as an anchor for the others' survival. Then in the forest, there had been five men...she could bring blurred images of them to mind but couldn't quite recall their names. Only two of them were clear in her mind: the first was brown-haired with deep, deep blue eyes...eyes of a color she had seen recently. Ardice's gaze darted to the heavy silk surrounding the bed, enclosing it on all sides in a way she didn't quite like anymore, despite the privacy. So _that_ was what they had reminded her of. She scowled darkly, disliking the fact that his eyes remained in her mind's eye. Sylvain, that had been his name. The other was...Marinel? Yes, Marinel. He had been the blond-haired one, with unruly curls rather than gentler waves, with the icy mint green eyes. She shivered at the memory and huddled closer into the stifling covers. 

            Suddenly, her frown deepened as more details of that fateful night returned to her: all the blood, the screams, the fighting, the unquenchable stench of death...she should have stayed. Maybe she couldn't have saved them, for they had tried, with their paltry powers, but she should have remained to die with the Lunarians. They weren't _her_ people, but she hadn't been given a choice about returning to Jupiter. It would have been more honorable. But apparently, honor was useless on Terra. Ardice glowered darkly. That...that _man_ (she remembered his reaction to her calling him a bastard) had dared to set hands on her and then he had imposed rudely upon her, breaking through barriers she had been too tired to reinforce so he could...heal her? Was that what had sent her into such a deep unconsciousness? 

            Finally managing to sit up, the brunette woman examined her bare arms and hands carefully: the blood had been washed off her hands, and there were no oozing open cuts, merely scars almost completely healed. Reaching up, she touched her neck and face hesitantly and felt the flaking scabs of closed wounds there, as well as...tiny grains upon her cheek? Ardice looked down at her fingertip, noting the crystalline particles. Touching her tongue gently to the tip of her finger, she tasted the salty bitterness and was appalled. She had cried in front of these men, whoever they were? Complete strangers who had nothing better to do than interrogate odd women in the forest? The thought alerted her to a new problem: Ardice had absolutely no idea where she was, what time of day it was, and how much time had elapsed. 

            She pushed off the heavy covers and blinked in dismay when she couldn't recognize the clothing she was wearing: a long, white nightgown covered with fripperies like lace and little bows. Making a face, she noted several purple-blue bruises that had faded to a lime yellow-green. About to push aside the dark blue hangings, Ardice gasped when a few more things were made clear to her: someone she didn't know had removed her clothes, bathed her, and dressed her. She felt a sick wave of fear at the intrusion. She would die of disgrace and shame if it had been one of those five men. At least, she tried to hope optimistically, she hadn't been raped. No, the sarcastic part of her mind replied, only _Terrans_ have discovered you, seen the teleport, taken you to an unknown place, bathed you, and dressed you. 

            Declining a retort, Ardice attempted to find the gap in the curtains that would allow her to open the draperies. When she finally discovered that opening, the door creaked open, and she leaped back in bed with surprising quickness, considering how tired and beat-up her body was. "You could knock," she snapped, glowering at the intruder as she took refuge under the sheets.

            Blinking in surprise, the general bowed deeply and said, "My sincere apologies, Lady Ardice. I assumed that you would still be sleeping." Sylvain's eyes flickered briefly over her unkempt state before flushing darkly and looking down at the ground.

            "That doesn't make it any better," she declared self-righteously. Her emerald green eyes sharpened as she asked, "Who are you?"

            "I'm...Sylvain. General Sylvain." When her eyes widened as she recognized the name, Sylvain gulped audibly. Trying to fathom what had distressed her so, he continued, "Um...yes, I am that Prince–King of the South."

            Even more taken aback, she retorted rapidly, "That was a rather pompous statement." Her hand flew up to her mouth when she realized what she had said, flushing to the roots of her hair. Here she was, smothered in blankets with little more than a little scrap of material on, insulting a King. One of the Terran Generals, she reminded herself. That made it even worse, if possible.  

            Meanwhile, Sylvain was shocked by her forwardness. He was used to flirtations and being treated as if he were a god of some sorts by the court ladies–all except his mother and his sister. He smiled wryly at that, for his sister Calandra was currently of the opinion that not only was he an asinine fool, his friends were just as bad if not worse. She had spent the better part of the night berating him while he paced outside her door, waiting for first Marinel to finish healing her and then his most trusted friend and servant, their old nurse, to bathe and dress her. The gen had no doubt that Calandra was most likely raging at his friends in his study at the moment. When she was done with her furious tirade, they would probably laugh good-naturedly and exchange a few friendly flirtatious comments while they waited for him. Sylvain blanched at that: he was beginning to receive the impression that Calandra was taken in by Pyralis's charm, and he would have to warn his "charming" friend of the consequences of exactly what he would do to the Eastern King if he so much as touched his sister without the most honorable intentions in mind. He was so caught up in thinking about the matter that he completely missed Ardice's question. "W-what?" he stammered rather inelegantly.

            Giving an exasperated huff, she repeated, "Where am I?"

            "Oh...the Southern Palace."

            'Sylvain!! Sylvain, wake up, damn you! This is no time to be letting your reaction time get slow!'

            Staggering slightly, the general barely noticed Ardice reflexively jumping out of bed to steady him as he sent back, 'I'm awake, I'm awake. That was a bit rough. What's going on? What happened?'

            'Some disruption in the North...the King sensed it and called Roshaun and Nitesh to him. Marinel is leaving to take care of the Northern problem, whatever that is. The people there are used to seeing him with Roshaun, and he knows the terrain best out of all of us besides Roshaun himself. I'm going with him, then returning to the East if possible. Watch out–you don't want the King to find out about your acts of hospitality now, do you?' Azure blue flared brightly with his anxiety, and Sylvain winced. Pyralis's contact had the tendency to be a little over-exuberant when he was fired up.

            'No. I'll be careful. Thank you, Pyralis. I'll see you later then?' 

            'If we're still alive.'

            'Best of luck...'

            'To you, too.'

~*~ Avoiding the Inevitable ~*~

            Unfortunately, Isadora woke to nothing so pleasant as silken sheets and fancy draperies. She was greeted by searing, stinging winds and burning sunlight casting an unbearable glare into her eyes. Her vision was spotty, sunspots filling her field of view everywhere she glanced. But of course, there was no change from last night except the light source: just miles and miles and miles of empty sand. Sighing, the raven-haired woman resigned herself to her fate as she got up from the hard ground and began her long, directionless trek. There were no markers to make sure she wasn't going in circles, and she was unfamiliar with using the direction of the sun (and the stars, for that matter) on Earth. 

            Before long, Isadora began to think she preferred the cool nighttime to the roasting daytime. She had also accepted the fact that she would probably die somewhere in this relentless environment. No one would find her, far from civilization (if any true civilization could be found on Earth). Scavengers, if they dared to exist in this heartless land, like vultures would most likely feast on her remains. She shuddered at the thought, then looked down at her arms and legs, already burned a raw pink by the sun's light. She winced as she noticed a long scrape on her leg that stretched from mid-thigh to knee. Had she water and cloth to wash the wound and bind it, it probably would have healed with a faint scar, as it wasn't too deep. Nevertheless, it hadn't closed and had probably bled the entire night. Isadora hoped that it wouldn't get infected, then told herself sourly that she'd probably die before it festered enough to kill her. 

            Shaking her head at her dismal thoughts, she gritted her teeth when she discovered that forward movement allowed more blood to run from the cut on her leg, and another slice on her side reopened. Staring at the more gruesome wound with dismay, Isadora sighed and closed her eyes, allowing the tracery of tears to run down her face, forgetting about the urgent need to find and conserve water. 'What is it about this place that makes me feel so vulnerable and unprotected? I haven't given up this easily since...well, forever...and everything is gone now. Mars, the red planet, in all its war glory, couldn't stand against Metallia. Now the surface of Mars is red, not because of its sands, but because of the bloodshed... It's soaked so deeply into the planet that the stain will never be removed. Oh, Selene...why? Why do this? You allowed your kingdom, the Kingdom of Light, fall, overcome by darkness. Is there no hope left?' 

            As her heavy eyelids lifted, Isadora's luminous purple eyes glowed with a surprising intensity as she held her head up high. 'No. Annamika is still alive, and she's what counts. I'm her guardian. I have to _live_ and not give in to whatever strange things on Earth are affecting me.' 

            She looked down at the scars crisscrossing her burned palm, a hand that had previously been milky-white and beautiful. Raising it in defiance of the bright light, she remembered something, an ancient secret, that her mother had told her about once. Her beloved mother, who was now dead at the hands of lowly Terran men–they would pay. "I call upon the power of Mars, as its last prin–queen, as its last queen. Take me someplace else on Earth," she whispered, "anywhere but this damned desert. An oasis would be nice. But Pluto would be better." Isadora's eyes shut once more as flickering red power cascaded down from the heavens, then up again, ruffling her dark, sweat-sheened hair. It swept upwards to engulf her, gently wrapping her in its warmth and mystery. 

~*~                  ~*~                        ~*~                        ~*~                        ~*~

            Isadora hit packed, dusty ground hard, and she looked around cautiously through veiling lashes. There was the greenness of life here and a deep, sparkling blue pool of water. She prayed that it wasn't an illusion or that she wasn't delirious with hallucinations. The Queens of Mars held the power of the their planet, as each of the queens of the planets did, a legacy left behind from the ancient times when there had been senshi. Senshi were always female, so the power had been left sealed to the queen rather than the king, something she was most grateful for now. She had never liked using any of her powers before, except for reading auras. There was something very intimate yet far away about reading another person's aura. Shaking herself for thinking about things that didn't matter at the moment, the raven-haired woman reached out hesitantly to dip her hand in the sunlit surface of the water, which blazed like a thousand diamonds. At the moment, a few drops of water to her were more precious than any jewels could be, and she nearly cried with relief when she found it was real. 

            However, before she could immerse herself in the long-desired water, bright blue light filled the air above her, and she felt a sense of foreboding. There was something familiar about this light...something very close but so strange. Isadora couldn't move away; she was so fascinated by the coloring of the air above her. A body materialized suddenly and fell clumsily downwards, and she realized rather belatedly the nature of the teleport. Shifting frantically to get out of the way, she cried out as the person slammed into her, knocking her across the sand and doing horrible things for her injuries, which were of a rather serious nature. The last things Isadora remembered were hair as golden and glorious as the sun, along with one muttered curse word. "Damn."

~*~ Prince of Ice ~*~

            Struck to his knees by the howling winds of a sub-zero environment, Marinel struggled to his feet and cursed furiously as the cold cut into him through his bulky clothing. Here he was, on a fool's errand doing blind teleports he had no business doing after a long night spent in the forest and healing a stranger, whose walls he had to knock down and then re-make. Then Pyralis had left him midway through the teleport to deal with some other disturbance in the East Sylvain had alerted him about. Why hadn't Sylvain gone himself?! Ah, yes, his sarcastic and cutting inner voice replied, he was too busy worrying about that woman from the forest. 

            He stalked forth into the swirling blackness that obscured his view and promised himself a nice, warm fire and some ranting at the hapless Sylvain once he found exactly what was sending these odd energy readings out like a distress signal. There it was: a strange, dome-like thing of a deep sapphire blue. 

            The gen fought his way through the impending snow and came to an abrupt halt as he nearly trampled a beautiful, dark-haired woman lying in the snow. She was lying like a crumpled rag doll, short tresses falling into her face, pale skin shining like the moonlight. He raised a sardonic brow at his admiration of her and realized that she was what the dome had been protecting. Unfortunately, it had faded just as he'd approached. Had she just run out of energy to sustain it, probable (especially since she was unconscious), or had it somehow...reacted to him? He ignored his thoughts and leaned down hesitantly, about to place his second and third fingers on her neck to check her pulse when he sighed and hit himself on the head. There was no way he would be able to feel her faint heartbeat through his thick gloves. Sighing, he knew there was nothing else to do and took her gently in his arms, shocked out of his normal pessimistic state when she burrowed further into the warmth his bundled body provided. Feeling a strange emotion running through his veins, Marinel shook his head and murmured to himself, "To Roshaun's palace...and there had better be something warm there, unlike the rest of these frozen wastelands."

~*~ Falling in Love With Love ~*~

            Their spirits were heavy with ghosts and burdens, weighting them down with the price to be paid by such destruction they had witnessed. At least they were nearly out of the sulphurous mud flats, muck forever ingrained into their sturdy boots. Annamika and Kiora had spent the entire night trekking through the swampy bogs and marshes in hope of finding clean water, food, and a way to get to Pluto. 

            Stopping suddenly, the silver-haired princess stiffened as blazing light filled the Silver Crystal. It began to pulse as if it had a light of its own, and when Kiora frowned and reached over to steady her, a thin, glimmering thread of gold was teased out of her and absorbed into the crystal. Holding Annamika upright, the blonde watched in astonishment as the color was drawn into the glowing orb, and three other colors soon joined the gold and silver intermixing: green, red, and blue. _Their_ colors, she remembered. 

            As she watched them swirling around in beautiful harmony, she began to feel both comforted and agitated–until Annamika gave a startled cry and went limp. They were in an extremely precarious position, on a narrow little strip of land beside a large pool of something she couldn't identify. Kiora's cornflower blue eyes widened in alarm as she teetered on the edge, and her powers both inside and outside of the crystal encasement flared wildly. A strangled, choked scream left her throat as she flailed wildly, trying to keep both of them from the pool. The stones from the edge of the pond kicked in begin to sink slowly into the muck, and she turned pale when she realized what that strange material was...quicksand. Just as Kiora felt herself falling in, and Annamika along with her, she felt something hard and solid knock her away. Gasping, flat against the ground, she looked up into turbulent gray eyes and felt her heart drop into the lower recesses of her stomach. 

~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~


	6. A Promise Broken

Chapter 3: Secrets Revealed

~*~ Heart's Storm ~*~

            Ardice watched the man sitting across from her suspiciously, as if he would dart forth and attack her any second. He was being unreasonably kind, and it irritated her to no end. After his strange spell that morning, when he had froze and become mysteriously deaf, he had brought her ridiculously fancy clothing that would have allowed absolutely no movement on her part. When she had turned her nose up at it, eyeing him curiously out of the corner of her sight, the general had bowed and withdrawn–only to return with more reasonable garments that looked as though they would fit a woman of her stature better. Sylvain had wisely abandoned his notions of her wearing some lady's donated high heels and presented his sister Calandra's extra pair of hunting boots, which Ardice took to with great enthusiasm. 

            Now, he had brought her a tray of food and situated her by a window, but her sparkling green eyes were narrowed as she attempted to stare him down. Trying to refrain from throwing his hands up in the air with exasperation, the gen asked, "Exactly _how_ am I going to prove to you that this food is not poisoned? I've already tasted it, and trust me, I'm not dying any time soon."

            "Oh, I wouldn't know about _that_. But your good intentions are going to be questionable to me until you let me go. Which you had better do _very soon_, if you know what's good for you." She smiled dangerously when he glowered darkly at her. "Why are you keeping me here, anyway?"

            "There were some very strange occurrences last night, and you were in the place from which five odd colors were emanating."

            "I told you, I don't know anything about these colors of yours. I only saw you and your friends in the forest, and one of them half-killed me."

            Sylvain's brows slanted downwards alarmingly. "Marinel healed you, which is quite the opposite."

            She sneered elegantly at him and refused to answer, staring resolutely away from the once-steaming food. 

            As if following her thoughts, the brown-haired general sighed and coaxed, "Come now, Lady Ardice. He didn't mean any harm, and neither do I. Your food is getting cold, and you need to eat. Would we go through so much trouble to heal you and then poison you?"

            "I don't know about you and your friends. You're very strange," Ardice remarked bluntly, hiding a gleeful grin at the surprise that spread over his face. It was actually amusing to outwit him this way. And they had always said Meriel was the brains of them all...perhaps she had a few left to spare for this insufferable man.

~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~

            Later that day, after she had finally (and grudgingly) condescended to eat, he watched his unexpected guest stumble around the gardens with apprehension and confusion. When Ardice moved short distances, she seemed wonderfully graceful, like a butterfly. While they were touring the gardens, her delight in seeing the plants had been genuinely charming, but her steps seemed to suggest that she was unused to walking somehow. Frowning, Sylvain watched her carefully as she bent over another flowering bush and walked on. It was almost as if she seemed dragged down somehow by a heaviness that didn't belong to her. 

            Turning to him and noticing the odd look on his face, Ardice blanched slightly and wondered what she had done wrong this time but merely commented, "You have lovely gardens here. But I guess you have gardeners to take care of the plants?" 'With the increased amount of gravity, I'm surprised they don't spend most of the time propping them up with stakes. But then again, they're Terran bred and born, unlike me.'

            "Well, yes, but it's only because I'm absolutely hopeless with plants. I don't have a green thumb, but I enjoy their beauty. Otherwise, I'd attempt to do it myself, but I think it might do the poor things more harm then good."

            Looking at him through lowered lashes, she suddenly asked quietly, "Should I be calling you something? My lord? Your highness? General Sylvain? King Sylvain?"

            He winced at each title she threw at him. Attempting a smile, he inquired, "How about just Sylvain? Please, call me just plain Sylvain. It sounds so refreshing after all the fawning from the other nobles that I get."

            For a brief minute, Ardice looked taken aback, but she smiled brightly in the next instance, and he felt his heart skip a beat. Unfortunately, he ruined the mood by leaning in...

~*~ Avoiding the Inevitable ~*~ 

            Pyralis cradled his precious burden in his arms carefully, unsure of exactly how much damage his ill-fated teleport had done. He cursed his abysmal landing spot. He was supposed to be accomplished at teleporting, unlike Roshaun, who was absolutely hopeless at it and would never improve, but he had somehow landed on top of the poor girl, further opening her wounds. 

            At least his teleport to the Eastern Palace had pulled through. Now, all he needed to do was find a bed and place her in it while he tried to find Marinel...and fell short. The blond-haired general felt intense anger when he couldn't reach his fellow gen and friend. It meant that he was either healing someone or dead. Pyralis was almost a hundred percent positive it wasn't the latter, but with his mind in its current ferment, the first was almost as bad as the second. The problem was, Marinel had already healed Ardice the night before, and he usually needed some time to recover from that. Then he had been forced to attempt a blind teleport, because Roshaun was at the king's palace and Sylvain was busy concealing Ardice, and if Marinel was expending precious energy by healing someone _else_, what would he do if he didn't have enough energy left to heal this second mysterious woman found? Pyralis, looking down at her once more, had a feeling that she too had something to do with those odd, unexplainable lights in the forest. Everything led back to the forest and that night, it seemed...the night the Moon Kingdom had fallen. The night his beloved father had died.

            All of the current generals' fathers had died in Metallia's quest to conquer the galaxy. Sylvain's father had been the first general lost, on Saturn. The king had not been pleased with the loss. Marinel's father had died on Mercury, and his soldiers had revenged themselves upon the Mercurian royal family so dishonorably that he suspected even the king was slightly ashamed, and the king was someone without scruples and considered totally immoral. Then Pyralis's father had died the night of the Moon's destruction. Just when victory had been imminent, an assassin, presumably a soldier of the Moon Kingdom, had killed Roshaun's father, commander of the generals. 

            Shaking his head at the loss, Pyralis looked up as a nervous-looking healer was steered towards him by a maid, who retreated soon afterwards. The general, mistrusting the apprehensive man who looked to be around his age or a little older, watched closely as a pale purple light washed over her. The color seemed to fit the enigmatic woman, somehow. The healer drew back abruptly and turned pale as he tried to give his king the news. "Your highness, her injuries are extremely extensive. Her organs are thankfully unharmed by the extreme heat, but she is delirious and may have temporary or even permanent amnesia if she wakes up."

            "If?" His voice was harsh, and Pyralis held back a sigh of annoyance as the healer flinched. 

            "Yes, your highness. Besides the sunstroke that has burned all of her skin raw, there are some wounds that look as though they were caused by swords of some sort. Two are very serious and infected."

            Rubbing his hands tiredly over his eyes, the general commanded, "I want you to try everything in your power to keep her alive, do you understand me?"

            Twitching in agitation, the man muttered, "But...your highness...this woman is unknown. His highness the High King of Earth has certain new laws about treating some people...and he would be most displeased to learn..."

            "Do it."

            "He would kill–"

            Pyralis's azure blue eyes glittered dangerously as he caught the healer's collar and pulled him forward. He was unused to dealing with healers besides Marinel, and he found that he had very little patience for babbling nincompoops too loyal to Nitesh's uncle for their own good. "I apologize for expressing the need to enlighten you in such a manner, but I will have to remind you, my good man, that I can kill you also, probably much faster than he can. In fact," he trailed off slowly, unsheathing his sword and showing it to him, "I'll do it now if you don't do what I command. I happen to be a prince as well, in case it slipped your mind. Perhaps I don't measure high enough for your standards, but King-General of the East is nothing to be trifled with." 

            The healer cringed away as the sunlight from the open window glinted off malevolent steel as hard as Pyralis's eyes at the moment. "Yes, immediately, my lord–your highness."

            "Good. I'm glad we have an understanding." He sat back to wait, praying that Marinel would be finished with whomever needed help sometime soon. During times of urgent desperation, he knew they had all (even Marinel himself) considered restricting the only healer among the four of them to healing only when they were certain he could, but Pyralis knew as well as Marinel did that such a thing would be a waste of a gift to use it only for his fellow generals. 

            But there was just something about this woman that evoked long-dormant emotions in the Eastern King. She lay there, seemingly helpless but still vibrant with life, long dark hair spilling over the whiteness of the sheets. Even with her skin burned and chapped by wind and sun, she was startlingly, exotically beautiful–unlike any other woman he had ever seen, and Pyralis had been a longtime admirer of women. She was different, and he could feel it. If only she could stay alive...

~*~ Prince of Ice ~*~

            Marinel entered the woman's inner psyche, slightly phased by how familiar yet unfamiliar it all seemed. Her mind was all dazzling shades of every color blue imaginable, and surprisingly, nothing clashed. There were also soft darts of silver everywhere. His own aura was the same but with patterned colors of green and gold instead of blue and silver. Ardice's, he remembered, had been similar to this woman's in its patterning of blue and silver but with bright greens instead of blues. 

            He frowned slightly as he felt her injuries first hand, a burden healers had to take upon themselves. She seemed to be remarkably resilient so far to the effect of extreme coldness on her body, but her lungs were horribly weakened. There were quite a few cuts that looked as though they had been made by steel weapons, and that concerned him. 

            What odd women he had met recently...first Ardice, now her. Physically, he had never seen a woman to parallel her beauty. Her dark ebony hair seemed to have naturally blue highlights that somehow seemed fitting for her. The general had never seen her eyes, but he suspected they would be the same deep shade of sapphire. 

            He scowled even more darkly at his moody romanticism. 'Concentrate, Marinel. You cannot afford to let anything get to you. Think of Nitesh, the throne, the...everything. Your father.' He sneered at the last thought.

            Suddenly, a strange, crystalline voice and sparkling blue filled his mind. Marinel was shocked, for he had never been bonded to any woman before. 'Please...prince of ice, will you save me?'

            'I can only try. Is life worth living to you? How much?'

            'I ask to live...for there is someone else I live for. You do as well, do you not? I don't ask for myself. But I need to stay alive a little while longer to protect someone I love.'

            He felt an insane wave of jealousy and blinked at it. It seemed that she was still full of surprises for him. Trying to sound soothing, something that had never been found in his nature, he replied, 'Then I will try to heal you, my lady. What is your name?'

            'I am...Meriel. Tell me your name, prince of ice. Please.'

            Marinel was shocked once more that he felt no resentment at a request from her. Normally, he would have taken orders from no one but Roshaun, Nitesh, or the King of the Earth. 'Marinel.'

            'We are one and the same, then. But different.'

            Suddenly, he inquired curiously, 'Do you trust me?'

            'Yes.'

            'Why? Why so suddenly?'

            'Not all healers are to be trusted...nor are Terran Generals...nor the Four Kings...but you are distinguished beyond those three forms, prince of ice.'

            'Why do you call me that?' Marinel asked, having finished driving out the chance of infection from her sword wounds and turning to the state of her lungs, 'prince of ice?'

            Meriel seemed to laugh softly in his mind. It was quiet rather than mocking, as if inviting him to share what had amused her so. 'You may be a king, but you are unused to it. As for the ice...why not? Your nature seems to be corresponding if not similar.'

~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~

            He had just finished his tiring task of healing her and was watching her sleep peacefully. The expression on Meriel's face seemed to be serene and calm, but there was a tight seriousness to her mouth and around her tightly-shut eyes that seemed to betray their owner. Marinel drew his fingers back from her pale cheek abruptly, furious with himself. He had only seen this woman for a few short hours, if even one. She had made him lose track of the time and control of all his emotions. She had broken down all the protective barriers he had built around himself over time without meaning to, and they hadn't even been properly introduced. But miraculously, she was alive. Marinel was not quite clear on the question of whether or not it was beneficial or detrimental. 

            'Marinel!!! Finally!'

            He winced and fell back into his chair. 'Pyralis? Damn it, that hurt! What in all hells happened?'

            'I've been trying to reach you forever. There's a woman here–with sunstroke–'

            'Gods, not _another _one.'

            'You found a woman with sunstroke, too?'

            'More like one that's been half-frozen. But never mind.'

            'That idiot of a healer who's been your substitute for the past half-hour is absolutely useless. Not to mention a spy for the king.'

            The green-eyed general managed to sit up straight in his seat. 'What?! You got a spy of the king to tend to this strange woman? You idiot! You're as much of an ass as he is!' It had only been a half-hour...how baffling...normally, it took much longer than that to heal someone. It was almost as if _she_ had made it easier in some way.

            'Shut up, Marinel. You aren't helping. Please, will you come or not?'

            'Of course. You know the answer, Pyralis. But I'm going to need your help for this one. And you're coming here. Can you manage it?'

            'Yes, but I can't–'

            Out of patience, Marinel snapped, 'I _know_ you can't heal. You've only told me a dozen times. I just need you to channel energy. Surely you can do that without written instructions, can't you?'

            Ignoring the barb, he replied, 'Marinel...thank you.'

            'Ass. Again. Did you think that I would turn my back on you?'

            'Never a minute!'

~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~

            "My lord, who–?"

            Trying to refrain from losing his temper after teleporting into a chamber full of surprised maids, the Western King managed to hold back an impatient growl. "My cousin," he replied shortly, "the Lady Meriel. See that she is made comfortable and prepare two rooms for King Pyralis, who is bring a–a lady friend." It was not unusual, and he had already used the excuse of "cousin" for himself. He was also unsure of whether Pyralis had any surviving relatives or not, but he definitely knew that his friend possessed no siblings. 

            "At once, your highness."

            Waiting for Pyralis to arrive, Marinel sat down tiredly and rubbed his aching eyes. He had no idea what had made him to disguise Meriel as his cousin, but for now, the guise worked perfectly. Unfortunately, she looked nothing like him, but he remembered his real cousin faintly. She too had possessed dark hair. His uncle and aunt were deceased, killed in an uprising of the common people. His cousin had been presumed dead as well, but no one had been able to recover her body as of yet. Marinel figured that no one ever would, and if she was alive and wanted to find him, she would have done so already and could do it at any time. He wasn't exactly a conspicuous figure with the public, but the newest King-Generals had become very well-known. The last time he had seen his cousin was at least twenty years ago. He would merely have to say that Meriel (no one quite recalled her name, either) had been searching for him but had accidentally teleported to the North and nearly died. His family's line held power as all the five royal bloodlines of Terra did, and this woman certainly possessed power. 

            Suddenly, the blond-haired general stopped his pacing on the dark carpet. Why exactly was he doing this for her, protecting her and disguising her true identity (whatever it was) instead of turning her over to the king? Marinel had no understandable answer but the one his heart gave him, and he could not decipher its complex code yet. It was a mystery he had closed himself off to so long before. 

~*~ Falling in Love With Love ~*~

            Nitesh, who had teleported with Roshaun, was helping Annamika up. Meanwhile, Kiora (assured that her princess was safe–at least from the quicksand–for the minute) bit her lip in her provocative position in his arms. It couldn't be him, her mind raced. It just _couldn't_. Both she and Roshaun were taken back to a time nearly thirteen years ago...

~flashback~

            "Father, I don't want to meet this girl....girls are _boring_ and they're always giggling. And dumb. And–and _girly_."

            "Listen to me, Kunz. She is the Princess of Venus, and the King of Earth is considering a match between the two of you, a type of alliance for the future." As the Northern King and General looked down at his young son, into smoky gray eyes he had given him from the gene pool, he continued, "I would _never_ allow you to marry a Venusian, let alone any other maiden not from Earth. All you have to do is behave for this short meeting. I won't promise anything, and once the political struggles are over, it'll be easy enough to break off an engagement."

            Tilting his head upwards, the young Roshaun inquired, "But Father, are Venusians evil? They look just like Terrans, at least on the outside. They look human. I don't understand."

            He sighed in consternation. "The Venusian people are different than us. Just do as I say, and one day, when you are grown and general in my place, you will see what I mean."

            Roshaun had merely nodded obediently as they walked down the red carpeting to the thrones of the King and Queen of Venus. As they bowed formally, although not too deeply, for they were also a King and Prince, the Northern General exchanged polite pleasantries and greetings from his king while the silver-haired boy watched the rulers seriously. 

            The King of Venus was a smiling, well-built man with dark blond hair and engaging sapphire blue eyes. His queen was a dazzling entity, prettier than any woman Roshaun had ever seen. Her hair was lighter than her husband's, almost as platinum-blond as his own, and her sparkling, robin's egg blue eyes were filled with life and friendliness. Then his gaze drifted to the opening doors as the trumpeter announced the errant princess. She promised to be just as beautiful as her mother, and it seemed that her parents' wonderful features had met in the middle with perfect equilibrium in the child. 

            The Princess of Venus had pure, golden-blond hair and cornflower blue eyes as vivacious as her mother's. Although she was only a child, there was something so charming about the way she almost skipped to the throne of her parents, her walk just a tad faster than the sedate pace that was normally required. As she curtsied enchantingly, with an endearing smile on her face, Roshaun thought he saw his own father smile back for a brief instant before leaning down to kiss her hand. When he motioned for his son to do the same, straightening proudly with hard eyes once more and a frozen expression, the silver-haired boy performed his service dutifully. He felt nothing when he kissed the little palm extended to him, but when his gray eyes met her blue ones, the world seemed to explode all at once.

            From Kiora's point of view, things were different. She saw a scowling, ill-tempered man with malicious intent towards her parents. Even at that young and precocious age, she knew resentment and prejudice towards her people. Still, he had smiled, and she had been delighted to see the distrust melt from his eyes. Unfortunately, it had soon returned. Then the boy, presumably his son and the Prince of the North (as well as whom they wanted to become her betrothed), had bowed rather stiffly, and Kiora had been unsure of what to make of him until he raised his hand and peered at her curiously through thick silver bangs. In that moment, when her eyes met his, she felt something strange pulling at her. 

            When her guardian, Artemis, nudged her gently, she let her recitations flow out of her mouth, but her eyes never left his. Kiora had no memory of exactly what she had said, but it must have been right, for her mother had instructed her to show Roshaun around the palace. Once in the empty, echoing hallways, she turned to him curiously and asked, "Who are you?"

            He blinked twice at her in incomprehension. "I'm the Prince of the North and the son of my father, who is King-General. But you knew that."

            "Yes. And I am Princess of Venus, daughter of its monarchs. But your position should not define who you are," she stated in a reprimanding tone. When he still looked at her in bemusement, Kiora inquired, "May I ask you a question? This is the Hall of the Chamberlains, and that corridor leads to the staterooms."

            "Yes. Thank you."

            "It's rumored that your father doesn't like Venusians. Is that true?"

            "Yes."

            "Then why is he here?"

            Roshaun sighed and put his hands deep in his pockets, a habit his father the King had been trying to break him of. "Haven't your parents already introduced the idea of a marriage-of-the-state to you?"

            "Yes. So what?"

            "Well, that's the reason. The King of Earth ordered him to, and as one of his generals, he is bound to obey whether he likes it or not."

            The golden-haired princess led him out of the palace into a sunny garden. "The King-Generals are interesting people. I suppose you'll be one, as well?" When he nodded, wondering whether she had meant he would be a King-General or an interesting person, she tilted her head slightly and asked, "Why?" 

            He frowned. "Because all of my forefathers have been the King-Generals of the North."

            "And you follow in their footsteps no matter what?"

            "Isn't it the same for you being a princess?" Roshaun retorted, feeling impatience bite at him, despite the fact that he reveled in being out in the fresh air and the open space. Walls felt like stifling enemies built for the sole purpose of imprisoning him. "You're born to be the Princess–and then the Queen–of Venus and to protect the Moon Princess. It's exactly the same."

            Kiora wrinkled her nose at him, a smile spreading over her face. "No, it's not. It's different our way. I chose to serve the Moon Princess, because she's my friend. I wouldn't swear the oath if I didn't like her."

             "You would have to. They'd make you."

            Her bright blue eyes laughed at him. "They could try. I'll do what I like. I _always_ do what I like."

            "You're nothing but a spoiled little princess," he remarked in surprise.

            Taken a back, the younger girl stared at him in surprise before sticking her tongue out at him in a most unladylike fashion and retorting, "And you're the son of the Northern King who is destined to make war on me and mine!" 

            Roshaun was once again shocked by the imp of a princess, neglecting to notice the dark scowl of a lean, silver-haired man in the shadows. "What do you mean?" he demanded.

            The tears began to fall unexpectedly down her face as she told him, "The prophecy says that the King-Generals of Earth will ally themselves with evil and take over the Moon Kingdom and all the other kingdoms of the planets. It's written that Venus will fall. Your father will lead those charges, because he's Head General. Maybe you'll do it with him."

            "I would never do anything like that. My father..." he hesitated. 

            "Your father would," Kiora sniffled, "and no one would stop him."

            "I would. I promise you that it won't happen."

            She stared at him in disbelief and asked, "You expect me to trust you?"

            "Well, why not?"

            "You haven't done anything to earn my faith."

            He sighed at her difficulty. "Fine," he said, holding out his hand, "my name is Kunz. It's short for Kunzite." When she looked at him, uncomprehending, he explained, "It's a stone."

            Kiora smiled suddenly and wiped away her tears. "I'm Mina. So you really promise me that Venus won't be overtaken? That you'll do everything you can to prevent it?"

            "Yes."

            "Then say it," she commanded imperiously.

            Bowing, he said, "I swear, Princess Mina, that it won't happen, and that I'll make sure it doesn't. Venus will be safe."

~end flashback~

            Roshaun and his father had left Venus shortly afterwards after signing a document that declared them betrothed. Kiora and Roshaun had told no one that they had shared their actual names with each other. Of course, at the time, Kiora had never dreamed that she would go by any other name besides her real one except as the Princess of Venus, had never even known that the name Kiora existed, and Kunzite had not yet known what his public name would be. 

            Eyes flashing, Kiora twisted out of the general's grip. He was still caught up in reminisce, and she slipped out of his grasp quite easily. She seemed to move at the speed of light, at least to Roshaun, Nitesh, and Annamika. The disguised princess could only give an affronted and startled squawk as the woman who had been best friend, chief confidant, and loyal guardian reached over and plucked the gleaming crystal out of her cupped palms. Silver, gold, red, green, and blue still shone brightly, twinkling reassuringly at Kiora. She didn't even bother giving Roshaun or Nitesh a backwards look as she closed her eyes and gripped the Silver Crystal tightly in her own hands. More gold poured in to fill the crystal until it was too bright to look at, and Kiora reached out to wrap Annamika's hands around hers. When the light had faded, as well as the spots from their eyes, the two Terrans were let with only the assurance of their memory that the two women had ever been there. 

            Rubbing his eyes, the dark-haired prince turned to his friend and asked in bewilderment, "Who was that, Kunz? You looked as though you knew each other...and that crystal! It almost blinded us."

            Roshaun closed his gaping mouth quickly, and his expression became one of deep foreboding. "We did. Know each other, I mean. She's the Princess of Venus."

            Shocked, Nitesh stammered, "But–but...how did you meet a Venusian? And the princess, of all people!"

            Shortly, quietly, the silver-haired one replied, "We were engaged. Well, betrothed at the very least. I made her a promise a very long time ago, when we were both mere children, that I would do anything in my power to prevent Earth taking over the Solar System." His fists clenched as he remembered his father's ugly prejudice and the look of anguish on a young Kiora's face when she had told him of the prophecy and how she feared Terrans. He was surprised when he compared that precocious, beautiful child to that exquisite woman who had been in his arms just a few seconds ago. 

            His companion inquired softly, "What are you going to do about her now?"

            "What?" Roshaun was jolted out of more memoirs. Pausing to think over the question rapidly, he fixed Nitesh with piercing gray eyes. "Darien, I want you to give me your word that you won't tell the king about her–them."

            "My uncle? Of course, if you don't want me to, but Kunz...who _were_ they? Well, the other girl with her."

            "Think hard. It isn't that difficult. Who do you know in this world that is still alive and possesses something like that? Who travels with the Princess of Venus as her sole protector at the moment?"

            "The Moon Princess," Nitesh breathed. Warned by the unapproachable look on the gen's face, he said hurriedly, "I won't say anything. But what are you going to do?"

            "Do?" he repeated slowly, as if it were an idea completely new to him. "I'm going to go after her, of course. But remember: not a word to your uncle. Understand?"

            "Completely. Well, actually, I'm still a bit foggy on the minute details, but what I mean is, I won't tell the king." Suddenly, a new thought occurred to him. "Kunzite, if someone finds out that you're withholding information and about your great scheme, whatever it is–at least after you've found her, you'll be killed! Especially because it involves the Moon Princess! Hung, or thrown in the dungeons at the very least! Imagine the shame of being court-martialed."

            Coolly, Roshaun replied, "Well, it's a chance I'll just have to take. I have my honor, and your promise of secrecy. Besides, if a court-martial comes about as a result of this fiasco, I'll feel no shame at all. Now, let's teleport. Will you do the honors, or shall I?" 

~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~


	7. Fighting Has Never Been More Funor More ...

Chapter 4: Fighting Has Never Been More Fun...or More Frustrating

~*~ Heart's Storm ~*~

            Sparks flew and thunder crashed overhead as their lips met. As they pulled back and stared into each other's eyes in dazed confusion, a downpour suddenly soaked them through, and rather breathlessly, Sylvain remarked, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't the skies clear before?"

            Laughing rather shakily, Ardice quickly drew away. Her heated cheeks felt as if they were on fire, and she wanted to sing in exultation and cry in despair at once. She barely knew him, but she felt that after just one breathtaking, startling kiss, that she would be happy to stay with him in that tranquil setting forever. The cool practicality of her mind reduced her to hopelessness: of course they wouldn't stay in the garden, particularly when it was pouring, and she had just kissed a Terran. The fact that he was a general made it even worse. Turning her face away, Ardice avoided his searching, soulful eyes and resisted the need to bury her face in her hands and cry. 

            "Ardice. Ardice, please."

            She got up and began wringing out her skirt vigorously, still looking away from him. She flinched when his hands carefully turned her face back towards him. When her eyes met his, worried but hopeful, she knew she would never be able to say no to anything he asked of her, and she hated it. 

            "Are you angry? Please don't be mad. I didn't mean to be so forward, but I thought...I thought..." Sylvain was surprised to find himself at a loss for words. He wasn't as adept at charming the ladies as Pyralis was, but he had never been so tongue-tied with one of them. She was different; he could feel it, and the touch of her lips tingled over every part of his body. "I apologize."

            "There isn't anything to apologize for." She smiled hesitantly at him, and he returned the favor. "But, you know....this mustn't happen again, Sylvain. We barely know each other, and I don't know who you are, really. You don't know who I am. And besides, I'm not even supposed to be here. Anything and everything is overheard and overlooked in a castle such as this one, and gossip, whether it's warranted or not, spreads like wildfire. Something like this would ruin you. You don't know my background, and I'm questionable as it is. And I'm supposed to be your prisoner." Ardice reeled off her excuses with rapid coherence, although her head felt foggy and muddled, an aftereffect of their astonishing kiss.

            The brown-haired general had been looking solemnly subdued and understanding until that last point. He leaped up from the bench, where he had been looking up at her, and grasped her hands emphatically. "You are no prisoner."

            She laughed rather bitterly. "I'd like to see what your friends Marinel...and...what was that silver-haired man's name? The one that seemed rather like stone?"

            "Kun–Roshaun." He caught himself just in time, and she smiled to herself. It look as if her and the other Inner Princesses weren't the only ones who had other names besides their given ones.

            "Yes, well, the King-Generals Roshaun and Marinel. And Pyralis."

            His night-sky eyes were intense as he regarded her. "What they think doesn't matter–all right, it does matter to me. Very much, in fact. But the point is, this is my home. My palace. And my right."

            "So I'm _your_ prisoner, is that right? You're sounding very possessive all of a sudden." Her own eyes sparkled teasingly, although she found the topic of discussion in no way amusing.

            "You're very cynical for someone as young as you are."

            Ardice lifted one slender eyebrow questioningly and smirked. "You don't know how old I am." More quietly, she added, "I wasn't, once."

            "What was that?" Sylvain asked quickly.

            "I wasn't, once. Not cynical, I mean." She looked down, and Sylvain looked away. He knew the things that caused pain and strife in the world. His father had been one cause. He was and would be another.

            "Getting back to the issue at hand–for the moment, that is–you are not and will never be a prisoner of mine."

            She gazed at him disbelievingly until a small, soft smile spread over her features. To himself, he thought that he had never seen anyone lovelier. "Is that a promise?"

            "Yes, a promise."

            "To last a lifetime?"

            He confirmed it with an elegant bow. "To last a lifetime. And beyond, for eternity."

~*~ Avoiding the Inevitable ~*~

            The King-General Pyralis drew in his breath as he gazed upon the sleeping woman. Her skin, all of it that had been bared to the harsh sun by her raggedly-torn and stained clothing, was covered in painful-looking blisters of an angry, pulsing red. Her beautiful face, far from serene, contorted like her clenched hands. 

            Marinel had said that it was lucky for her to survive. He had also warned Pyralis that he should be careful around the stranger, for it was likely that her dreams would be filled with horrible visions and memories that would not fade when she awoke, prone to hallucinations. Under his orders, the blond-haired general had kept her uncovered by any blankets, lest it irritate her sensitive skin, but he had a little fire burning steadily. It was too cold in the Northern Palace for a room to be without a heat source. Roshaun and his predecessors had spent a fortune in purchasing fuel that could only be purchased from more forested areas or very southern parts of the North, and Pyralis's silver-haired commander had celebrated, in a manner, his new wealth when he had taken the throne unexpectedly early by improving the fireplaces for all the palace's occupants, not just his own. He felt guilty thinking about that: Pyralis felt, truthfully, that he had done nothing of that sort or magnitude in his own domain. 

            But things had been so rushed and confusing after the invasion of the Moon Palace. The old King-Generals had been rather young, as some of their forefathers had gone, and in excellent health. They had all perished in their ambition, and Earth was unsettled with the shifts in power, as was its people. There had been no public declaration and acceptance of the younger King-Generals yet, and the four men did not really hold that distinctive title. The king had not yet seen fit to conduct that ceremony, despite the fact that they were working for him and ruling their palaces with clear command and capability. Pyralis's normally even temper was sparked by thought of the king. He could laugh, simmer, and rage with the best of them–and at himself–but when certain things riled his temper, there was almost nothing and no one that could calm him down enough to see reason.

            She stirred abruptly, interrupting his thoughts. Pyralis glanced down at her haggard features and wondered who she was and where she was from. Marinel had given him the distinct impression that he had been unsettled be what he had learned of her during the healing, but he had collapsed of exhaustion right on the carpet (earning himself a very nasty bump on the head from the foot of a nearby dresser) directly after the little information he had managed to impart to Pyralis had been mumbled thickly. He caught his breath as luminous purple orbs opened and fixed upon him dazedly. 

            "Who...are you?" Her voice was sweet and pleasant, although it was a bit hoarse.

            "I'm Pyralis, King-General of the East. I found you in the desert and brought you to the Northern Palace."

            Frowning, she tried to sit up but found the effort too immense for her tired muscles. Pyralis noted the quick flash of anger and annoyance across her features and smiled to himself. She must, when feeling up to her normal standards, be a real firebrand. "Why am I here? In the Northern Palace, I'm guessing?"

            'She thinks quickly, for someone who recently awoke after a long sleep and only partial recovery from her injuries,' he thought to himself. "It's a long story. In the meantime, I don't suppose you could tell me who you are or where you're from?"

            She flushed darkly. "I'm sorry. I don't know where my manners are....I'm...I'm..." She wracked her brain trying to think of who she was and was stunned to realize that she couldn't remember. "I don't know."

            "What do you mean?" he asked quickly.

            "What I just said! I remember the desert, all hot and shining in the daytime but gleaming and cold at night...having something very large appear above and collide with me...icy greenness, and dark, shadowy dreams. And, of course, talking to you just now. But beyond that, there's just a blank and figments of memories scattered around. I can see places I've been, I think, but they race across my mind and are gone so rapidly. Like lightning." A familiar concept, she realized.

            Sadly, Pyralis said, "You must have amnesia. Marinel did warn me, I believe. Severe sunstroke can cause people to forget their identities for a while, but it should be temporary. How long you'll have to remain this way, I don't know, but it's rather inconvenient for the moment."

            She glared at him furiously. "I'm sorry to cause you such an _inconvenience_, your highness. Perhaps the high-and-mighty King-General would find himself less inconvenienced if he spent his precious time elsewhere, playing the brave, rescuing knight in armor!"

            He was startled into silence for a few minutes asking, "Are you always this crabby, or is your skin chafing you more than you'd like to admit?" When she opened her mouth to give him a sharp, outraged retort, he grinned cheerfully and swept her an exaggerated bow. "By the way, while you may not recall _yours_, I, on the other hand, do have a name. You should use it, because I find courtly titles boring and insipid. Of course, if you can't be troubled to remember it–"

            "What do you mean, if I can be troubled to remember it?! Of course I know your name. It's Pyralis!"

            "Very good. Oh, by the way, the knight in shining armor scenario is a bit outdated now. Do you know how heavy and _inconveniencing_ armor is nowadays? As a matter of fact, I've rescued quite a few people, but none of them needed as much help as you did."

            "As much help as I–why, you–"

            Pyralis kept smiling. It seemed that she had forgotten about her agony for the moment, which was good. He had seen the look on her face when she had tried to move, and as long as he was keeping her distracted with a rousing fight, it would probably do both of them good. "Admit it, my dear lady, you were close to death and nearly fried alive. You could barely move or even keep conscious when I found you."

            "I suppose you think you deserve some kind of medal for that? You're really quite full of it. And I'm not your dear anything!"

            "It's not as if I could put in anything besides 'lady,' as you can't seem to recall your name."

            "That wasn't the point!" she cried in frustration. Closing her eyes, she tried to think of that name that kept darting out of her reach. Her fury was blinding her, and he was smiling cheekily at her without the slightest hint of being put out. The thought was not only flabbergasting but also insulting. Ignoring him pointedly, a triumphant smile finally spread over the raven-haired woman's face. "Isadora."

            Pyralis, trying to regain the breath that her beauty had stolen from him unknowingly, coughed hastily and re-schooled his face to one of expectancy and humor. "Yes? What was that?"

            "Isadora. It's my name. The one you said I couldn't remember."

            "Quite the contrary. You told me you didn't know it first." Quickly, before she could blow another gasket, the general lifted her hand to his lips, mindful of the blisters and pronounced, "Enchanted, Lady Isadora."

            She stared a him for an instance, as if she hadn't seen his like before, until she turned her face away. 

            After a few minutes, the blond-haired man realized that he was still holding her hand and released it, gently. She drew it back to her, and he said quietly, "I should be going now, to let you rest. I apologize for my rudeness. I didn't mean to provoke you, and my lack of perception made me stay much longer than it was wise to. You must be very tired, and you'll be needing a lot of sleep." Still, she said nothing, and he got up and turned to leave. 

            "Wait." Her voice was cool and calm, almost a command, for she was too proud to let anyone hear her plead. 

            Nevertheless, he turned most solicitously and raised an eyebrow. "Yes? A reprieve, dare I hope?"

            Isadora bit her lip as she gazed into his bright, azure blue eyes. "No–I mean, not that I don't forgive you–it was my fault in the first place. Both our faults, as a matter of fact. So you don't need to..." She was cut off by his rich laughter and flushed. "It's not _that_ funny. I was wondering...well...are you busy? Never mind. Of course you're busy. You have kingly duties and whatnot. Just go. And thank you."

            "You're not getting rid of me that fast. What is it that the lady desires? My time is yours."

            "Would you–would stay? Just for a little bit, I mean."

            He smiled faintly. "I'll stay until you fall asleep," he promised. Glancing at her as he pulled up his chair once more, he murmured, "You didn't have pleasant dreams, did you? I thought not."

            "You must think I'm a baby now."

            Pyralis allowed himself to show surprise for a brief instant before locking it away. She had made him show more of his private emotions than he would have liked in only one meeting, and he preferred to keep his mask and happy-go-lucky facade on. "No, never. You've been very brave. Don't think you're the only one who doesn't sleep untroubled."

            "You? What disturbs your sleep, Pyralis?"

            It was the first time she had addressed him with his name, and he was too taken aback to respond before he realized that she was sound asleep. Rather relieved that he did not have to answer the beautiful stranger that always seemed to demand a truthful answer, he sat and watched her sleep, despite the fact that he had told her he would leave once she slept. His mind was indeed troubled, and here was the time and a person who could help him sort his thoughts out...if he could permit Isadora inside his lonely self and mind as he had permitted no one besides his fellow King-Generals to. It wouldn't be easy, and he didn't know if he had the courage to do it. Looking upon her, he thought that surely, she was the answer. She was promise, hope, and faith.

~*~ Prince of Ice ~*~

            Meriel awoke to the soft movement of the gauzy white curtains above her, and she lay still for a moment, gazing at the carved wood of the canopy bed. She felt safe yet caged, enclosed in that little space. Pushing aside the curtain and feeling her bones creak tiredly in complaint, she gasped in surprise when her eyes met the glacial wonderland outside. 

            It was different from the icy, whirling darkness that had nearly taken her to the realms of the dead. It was bright and sunlit, although still inhospitable with secrets understood only by those that loved the harsh barren land of the North for what it plainly was: a land of ice, of miracles, and of unworldly things. 

            Suddenly, she heard a commotion close by, outside her door, and hurriedly made her way over to listen. Several times, she had to stop and steady herself on a nearby piece of furniture and wait until the dizziness faded. Snippets of indistinct conversation reached her ears, all of the speakers sounding quite anxious:

            "The ambassador...yes, of course, from the king–who else?"

            "But he's asleep!"

            "Did no one tell the envoy? He collapsed after a healing and isn't well. He isn't even conscious. If he was, he would be insisting on getting up and seeing the man immediately."

            "Well, we've only given out the information that he's 'currently indisposed.' Imagine what the king would say if he found out the real nature of his collapse."

            "Can no one talk to him?"

            "The man is mad...well, perhaps not mad, but clearly one of those arrogant bulldogs the king keeps to lick his shoes by the throne...lives in the royal kennels, of course." Here, disdainful laughter was heard from the speakers. Then the topic of discussion was resumed with due haste and anxiety.

            "Yes, but still...can no one else speak to him?"

            "He refuses to speak to anyone except the highest nobility. King Pyralis cannot be found anywhere, and..."

            "What about his cousin? The one who appeared so mysteriously yesterday or so?"

            "Now, you know his highness gave orders that she was not to be disturbed...she's been sick as well. I doubt she's even awake. Prince–I mean King Marinel said to watch her carefully to make sure she doesn't overexert herself or get out of bed. The fire in her room is kept high...windows tightly shut..."

            "We need _someone_ to talk to him!"

            She had heard enough. Apparently, the man who had saved her from death needed help–at least, his subjects did–and she knew perfectly well how to speak to pompous emissaries, having plenty of practice on the Moon. All she needed was to put on her cool social mask and some proper clothing. Better health would, of course, have been a definite plus, but she had learned not to ask for unreachable things. 

~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~

            A half an hour later, Meriel was looking at her reflection in a floor-length mirror. Its frame was ornately-shaped silver, and she reached out to grasp the edges. Their firm, solid coldness brought her down to earth once more, clearing her mind. In the extensive wardrobe, she had found feminine garb of all sorts and had chosen a tasteful and elegant dress. Its only inadequacies were the color and the fact that it was not the warmest of garments. 

            Meriel plucked helplessly at the dark crimson dress. Her coloring was hard to match to clothing, but this had been the only wearable dress in her size. Some she had tried on and found herself drowning in yards and yards of material; others were so low-cut or high-slit that she was embarrassed to even look at them for long. Among her friends, she figured that the gown would best compliment Isadora or possibly Kiora, in a pinch. The dress was still a bit long, but she figured once she had heels on, it would be the appropriate length. 

            She rang for a servant, and the maid that appeared promptly could not have looked more shocked to see the previously bedridden woman out of bed and dressed for court. However, she was used to the close-mouthed ideals of Roshaun, and merely curtsied (using the time to compose her face). "My lady, you called?"

            "Yes. Would you please find me some shoes to match this dress?"

            "Yes, of course, my lady. Anything else?"

            "Is the ambassador currently in residence? If he is, please direct him to a convenient chamber and tell him that I will be with him shortly."

            "He is, my lady. And I will do as you requested."

            "Thank you very much." Sitting down to wait, Meriel nervously fussed with her hair and tried to keep calm. She actually knew quite a bit about the Northern Palace, as much as any non-Terran dweller could know, but she was still unsure of her competence in passing herself off as Marinel's cousin. Of course, she could excuse her ignorance on a few political issues of Earth, but she prided herself on knowing the most important ones. She just hoped that she wouldn't give anything important away. 

            There were several reasons for her involvement in Marinel's duties. For one thing, she owed Marinel for saving her life. For another, she needed to keep her true identity a secret and support her role as the Western Prince's cousin. Lastly, she might learn news, any word at all, of the queen and the Outer Princesses. 

~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~

            When Marinel finally awoke, woozy and still extremely weary, he was enlightened of certain events. Feeling a migraine coming on, he dressed as quickly as possible, nearly forgetting to comb the snarls out of his mess of hair before striding through the halls as quickly as possible. His basic strength had replenished itself, but he knew his power was nearly at an all-time low. Although he had just been alerted of the current conversation ensuing between the diplomat and his "cousin," his mind was already working at a pace much faster than what was considered normal for many other people.   

            Brushing past surprised guards and ignoring several calls of his name and title from various retainers, the blond-haired man managed to arrange his features into a mask of neutrality and coolness as he paused before the closed double doors. When he stalked in, the sight that met his blazing green eyes was astonishing. 

            The ambassador was a man he knew, unfortunately, and loathed. He was a pompous human lapdog of the king and tended to make Marinel and his three comrades feel as if they didn't deserve their positions, as they hadn't _really_ been acclaimed. Not only was he a dishonorable, lying snake who felt that anyone beneath his station was nothing and nobody, undeserving of his superior attention, his disrespect and maltreatment of women was known across the five lands. However, he actually looked cowed and rather defeated, listening closely to the points that Meriel appeared to hammering home with well-hidden glee and enjoyment. Marinel smirked to himself. He knew a born politician that enjoyed her work when he saw one. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite ready to forgive his impromptu guest for leaving her bedchamber. "Excuse me, my lady cousin, my lord."

            They looked up instantly, and a flush spread over both their faces. Meriel looked guilty; the sleek-haired, slippery man of the honey-tongue vanquished and caught off-guard. 

            "Your highness–"

            "My lord–"

  


            "As always, it's a pleasure to see you, my lord," he interrupted smoothly, "and you're very welcome in the King-General Roshaun's home–or any of the other King-Generals' domains. Of course, I'm eager to hear any tidings you've brought, but I'd like a word with Lady Meriel first." Offering her his arm with a silencing air of ice, he said, "Excuse us for a moment, my lord." As they left, the general cast the man a backwards glance and was surprised to see him watching Meriel's every move. Once they were safely out of his range of hearing, Marinel hissed, "What do you think you're doing?!"

            She glowered at him with equal anger. "So nice to see you're awake, at long last. You could have had the dignity of thanking me."

            "What for?"

            "You were worn out from healing, the servants were in a flurry over what to do about himself over there, and they couldn't find anyone to deal with him."

            Marinel scowled darkly. They had forgotten to mention that to him. "Well, where in all hells was Pyralis?"

            "I don't even know who Pyralis is! They said they couldn't find him."

            "Oh. I apologize," he said brusquely. "I'm just a bit behind on events, and it irks me. And you were supposed to stay in bed." 

            She sighed and leaned against the well, all the vigor from her argument draining from her. Looking up at him tiredly from under long eyelashes, she replied, "I didn't have much of a choice. Don't worry–he really doesn't have anything important to say, and I don't think I've done too much damage."

            Eyeing her perceptively, Marinel accused, "You've worked in government before."

            Meriel shrugged, blue eyes lightening with better humor. She was tired, cranky, and didn't want to deal with a crabby King-General she barely knew. At least he seemed to be backing down a bit. "So have you. I assume you'd like to over from here?"

            "You're going to fall over if you don't rest, and I'm perfectly capable of dealing with that arrogant good-for-nothing. He's not even ornamental."

            She smiled brightly, but the smile faded quickly as her eyelids sagged wearily. Before she knew what was happening, she was swept into the warm, strong arms of the one she had dubbed the prince of ice. Trying to keep her eyes open, she muttered, "I can walk. You need to go and talk to him. He'll wonder what's going on."

            "I have a perfectly legitimate excuse. Now stop fussing. By the way, it would make things easier if you would stop holding yourself so stiffly. I'm accustomed to carrying much heavier things." When she finally did relax, he added, "We're about to go up the staircase now, and I'd prefer it if you were in a less precarious position. Put your arms around my neck, please."

            Meriel opened her eyes wide and looked up at him, a dark crimson color spreading over her cheeks. "What?"

            The general sighed and paused, glancing down at his light burden. "I said, we're going up the stairs, and I don't think you'd like me to drop you. So do as I asked, please."

            Blushing furiously, she did as he asked, and they proceeded up the stairs. By the time they reached her room, she was already asleep. Marinel's deftly-carved features had an unusual softness to them, as well as a pale flush. When he set her down on the bed carefully, he drew the sheets over her body warmly and checked the fire. Before he left, he lingered for a few minutes, engraving her peaceful expression in his memory until he realized what he was doing. And then he frowned. Her breathing was strained, and the air rattled in her throat and lungs. When his power was fully replenished, he would have to take a second look at her injuries. Most of them seemed to be completely healed, but he worried. He told himself it was because he needed to question her about her past and her whereabouts, but Marinel had never been good at lying to himself. He knew there was no point, because he always knew the truth, even when he couldn't admit it.

            Returning to the ambassador he had treated like a mere messenger, Marinel explained, "Please excuse my cousin. She is just recovering from a recent illness and tires easily."

            "A beautiful and most accomplished woman," the other man praised in an oily tone.

            The King-General glanced at him sharply, hearing a note in his greasy voice that he disliked. He sighed to himself: he had forgotten the man's determination to be wedded to a powerful and influential bride that would increase his own reputation and wealth. Sooner or later, he was bound to marry, but Marinel was determined that that woman would not be Meriel. That inward musing settled, he began to make small talk, although his mind remained on other things...

~*~ Falling in Love With Love ~*~

            Her own magical abilities had speeded along the final, inevitable convergence of powers, but Kiora alone could never have used the Silver Crystal to teleport–or for anything, in fact, besides an ornament. When she had cradled her princess's hands around the gleaming gem, they had hurtled towards an unknown destination. 

            As their physical bodies faded from view, they were both prepared for a somewhat rattling but normal teleport that would have taken a few seconds before they found themselves in yet another unfamiliar place. What they weren't prepared for was the jarring collision with a shimmering golden barrier that had appeared out of nowhere, without any warning. Since the teleport's chosen destination had not been reached yet, the combined powers inside the crystal pulsed, endeavoring to push the two through the seemingly impenetrable barrier. Their were forced through, bit by bit, particle by particle, and the pain was unlike any other they had ever felt before. Their torment was fiery hot and burning cold at the exact same moment, and if they had been able to open their mouths, they would have screamed until they had no voice left. The anguish seemed to go one for hours and hours, piercing and ceaseless. 

            And then, finally, they lay panting and almost sobbing for breath on cool tiles. Before Kiora could even think of moving, she was hauled up in a rough grasp, against a hard and muscular body. She twisted weakly in her captor's clasp, trying to get out of his bruising hold, but she was impossibly tired after pooling what energy she had left to teleport here. Her desperate eyes caught sight of Annamika's dirt-caked hair, its original silvery-blonde turned to mousy brown. The fact that her princess would probably not be recognized was little consolation at the moment, since she was in the grip of an equally large palace guard. Ringing them were at least twenty guards, all uniformly-dressed, equipped with swords, daggers, and spears–which they pointed menacingly at Kiora and Annamika. She searched the otherwise-empty desperately for some sign of where they were, if there was any hope left for them. What she saw made her heart sink further into the lower recesses of her empty stomach: the crowned symbol of Terra was printed all over the walls, and the elegance of the furnishings–including the colored tiles she had been lying on a few minutes before–confirmed her worst fears...they had broken through the barrier into none than Elysion, Terra's capital...and the seat of the King of Earth. 

            Without any words, the captain–as evidenced by his badge–began dragging her down the hall. When her feet refused to move, he ordered gruffly, "Walk." And she did. All the while, her mind, tired and bruised from the mental effects of the disastrous teleport, was trying to come out with any solutions to her problem. She could barely move, let alone fight. At any rate, even with Annamika's help, she wouldn't have been able to handle twenty well-trained guards that protected the King of Earth himself. She seriously doubted that they would be in any shape to escape from wherever they were about to be taken for several days.

            But there was no way she was going to give herself to the king so he could throw her in a dungeon. If Annamika hadn't been with her, she would have committed suicide the minute she had realized she was in the palace–if possible. She refused to be humiliated, dishonored, and handed over like an unwitting animal for slaughter. And then, as her head flopped in the manner of a boneless rag doll as she was towed down the hall, Kiora felt desolation course through her. Numbly, she wondered where her fighting spirit had gone. Years ago, she would never have given up anything she went after. Months ago, she had been determined to trounce Earth for allying with evil. Days ago, she was ready for a weapon to drink the blood of the people who had killed nearly everyone she loved. Now, she was weary and without hope, and it saddened her. She would never have thought of killing herself before. She would thought that before she left any harm come to Annamika, she would have let herself been tortured by the King of the Earth and his lackeys–and she would have laughed at him while he was doing it. 

            Her world was gone, her family slaughtered, and her friends missing. She had come face to face with living defiance of the values she had been taught to revere, which she had thought were present in all people, what she had fought for...King-General Kunzite Roshaun. Suddenly, anger in her blazed brightly, and her head came up. She didn't know what would happen, but she wanted to face it with everything she had left, a last scrap of pride. And as Annamika glanced over worriedly, she was comforted by the determined look in Kiora's cornflower blue eyes.

            'Chin up, sweetheart. Everything will be fine. I promise. I won't let anything happen to you. And I'd die before they could make me leave you.' 

            'I know. I've always known, and I've always wondered how I could ever deserve someone like you as a friend–because first and foremost, that's what you are to me. Not a guardian, not a fellow princess, nothing like that. And we'll see the others again. We'll be together again someday...' 

~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~

            Halfway into the throne room, still being prodded and pushed, Kiora suddenly came up with an answer, the only answer she could formulate at the moment. It scared her, and it horrified her. But resolve filled her, and she was willing to do it if it would protect her princess.

            'Annamika, listen to me now. Carefully. I have a plan...that may save us. No, keep looking straight ahead. Try to stay behind me a little, show deference, as if you were a servant. Hopefully, it'll keep you in the background. And don't say anything unless you're asked, and agree with whatever I say. Understand?'

            'Yes, but...'

            'Hush.'

            Kiora focused her gaze on the king, trying to form judgement of his personality, of his way of thinking. He had thinning ebony hair and dark blue eyes, so dark that they were almost black. He was powerfully built, but his time seemed to be spent sitting on the throne, since some of his muscle seemed to be reverting to fat. The expression on his face was completely blank and carefully bland. His eyes were heavily hooded, and his nose seemed almost beaklike. There was a waiting in his form, as if he were ready to pounce upon his unsuspecting victims. 

            Languidly gesturing with a bejeweled hand, he bid the captain, "Let them go. They don't seem to pose much of a threat now, do they?"

            "Your highness, they teleported into the main hallway of the palace. Magik is strictly monitored now, and for all it is worth, no matter how they are dressed, they could be dangerous."

            "I believe I can handle myself. But summon General Roshaun–and my nephew–here at once."

            The man had no choice but to signal two of his men out of the room...and Kiora fell hard upon the floor in front of the massive throne. She scrambled up instantly, but Annamika was slower to follow, and she was glad. Whether it was because the other was tired or trying to fit into her role of servitude, it gave the right impression so far. Straightening herself proudly, she met his eyes look for look, and those observing thought that if they could ignore the state of her clothes–which they couldn't, dirt- and dust-caked as they were–she could almost be nobility, and high nobility, at that. 

            "Well, well, well...and who might you be, to intrude so unexpectedly–and almost righteously–in Elysion?"

            Kiora smiled grimly. Already, as Annamika had fallen back two paces behind her, he was speaking to her, as if he had already calculated that she was the one with the power. "My lord, I am indeed pleased to meet your acquaintance. I'm afraid we've had some trouble along the way, my serving woman and I, and our appearances are a poor reflection upon ourselves. But indeed be assured that I am Queen Kiora of Venus...the fiancee of King-General Roshaun of Earth." She enjoyed the loud gasps that greeted this statement, as well as the reaction of their ruler.

            "Impossible!!"

            She met his outraged stare levelly. "Do you doubt my word?"

            "I doubt everything about you, woman! This is preposterous!"

            She raised her chin and looked around the room calmly. "And how many people alive, your majesty, do you think knew about that unlikely betrothal between your general and myself?"

            The king had no answer, and try as he might, he could not intimidate her. Just then, Roshaun and Nitesh appeared on the scene, and he greeted them without showing his immense relief. "Nephew, General Roshaun, this woman claims that she is the Queen of Venus–and your fiancee, General Roshaun. Is this true?"

            The silver-haired man had been prepared for an imposter, and as the mysterious woman turned to face him, he took in her stature and filthy clothing and began to feel nervous. When she turned to face him, her face bearing one long scratch, barely scabbed over, and a dirt stain, he was given one of the great surprises of his life. Nitesh, on the other hand, said nothing, glancing at his friend sideways.

            "Well? General Roshaun? What think you of her claim? It is true that barely anyone knew about the betrothal. Perhaps only myself and your father, and the Venusian rulers."

            Coolly, Kiora brought up the subject she had been dreading to broach, wholly ignoring Roshaun. "Not even the Moon Princess knew, your grace."

            His head snapped up. "What do you know about the Moon Princess?"

            She bowed her head and made tears come to her eyes–it was easy enough. When they spilled over and down her cheeks, she lifted her face again and cried, "She is dead! At your hands!"

            "I was nowhere near her," he protested.

            "We teleported to the Earth from the Moon the night you destroyed it! She died instantly, from shock!"

            Annamika kept her head down, enjoying her friend's spectacular performance. 

            The king considered this for a few moments. "And the other Inner Princesses? I don't suppose you know where they are?"

            "They're all dead," she whispered, more tears coursing down her face.

            "Speak up!"     

            "They're all dead!! The Queen of Mercury...she drowned when we tried to ford a lethal river. The Queens of Mars and Jupiter flung themselves off the cliffs together...and no one could survive from that height."

            He inquired, "And why should I believe you?"

            "Would I lie about the deaths of my friends? Don't you think I would want them alive with me more than anything else?!"

            Roshaun was more than surprised at this late development, but the king seemed to be inordinately pleased, rubbing his hands together and chuckling. He was beginning, for some reason, to feel that the Princess–Queen of Venus–was much smarter than anyway expected...but he wasn't sure why. Suddenly, the king turned to his general. "Well? General Roshaun, what have you to say? Do you believe that this woman is your fiancee?"

            Having had enough time to collect himself, he asked, "Why not see when she's cleaned up? You have that portrait of the Inner Princesses–Queens–salvaged from the Moon Palace before it was destroyed. It is rumored that the Princess of Venus, now that planet's queen, was beautiful beyond compare. She was an extraordinarily pretty child. It should be easy to determine from there."

            As Kiora and Annamika–who had not been given a second glance by anyone besides Roshaun and Nitesh–were escorted from the room, the king asked, "And if she is the queen, would you marry her?"

            He considered it for a few minutes, weighing the alternatives. But the answer he settled on was the one that he had thought of almost instantly. "Without doubt, your majesty."

~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~                  ~*~

Author's Notes:

            Sorry for the extremely long wait ^^;;. Unfortunately, I'm not sure this chapter is all that good, either. Do you think I'm rushing things with Sylvain and Ardice? I'm more satisfied with Pyralis and Isadora, even with Marinel and Meriel...and now my dear semi-demi muse, Selene Starre, figured out how to get past the evil hurdle, and now I can finish the chapter! ^^ *big hug for Se* So...overall, how was the chapter? Good, bad? Any hopes? Requests? Guesses as to what's coming up ahead? Just drop me a line or review. Thanks!

            ~Ice


	8. Battlements are Pleasant Company Part 1

Chapter 5: Battlements are Pleasant Company (Part 1)

~*~ Heart's Storm ~*~

            She had been touched beyond belief by his words–but she was still wary. She wanted to trust him, because in spite of everything that had happened to her, she liked and admired the way he acted...at least the actions that she had seen. Sylvain was a remarkable paradox. He was young and old at once, first brimming with spirit, then showing ageless wisdom in his compassion and understanding. He seemed to be still a bit of an innocent, unlike the hardened green-eyed one she had met–Marinel. Even though he must have seen horrible things, Sylvain kept them in his memory as reminders of what he must not become. What he remembered most clearly was the miracles, and it showed. Ardice hadn't wanted to admit it, but he had the purest soul of any man he had ever met. While it had galled her at first, all her anger had fled, and she only felt sad. They were not to be, and they could never be...

            "Ardice?" A polite knock was heard at the door, and she whirled around, her skirts following in a swirl of confusion. She looked down at them in consternation. It was one of the days that her preferred riding gear from Calandra, Sylvain's older sister, was in the laundry, and she had had to make do with a fancier court dress (also borrowed) until the general had unexpectedly commissioned a dress from a seamstress. Ardice was not allowed out of the medium-sized suite of rooms she had been given without Sylvain's company, and none of the other occupants of the palace besides one trusted maid could know that she existed, either. The problem of getting her measurements proved to be a most troublesome–and slightly embarrassing–task, but they had managed to get through it with a minimum of discomfort. Thankfully, he had made no reference to the incident since, and she now had a plain, forest green dress that suited her long frame. She still liked the riding gear more. 

            Drawing her thoughts back to the present, she frowned thoughtfully. She recognized his voice, of course–she expected, by now, that she would have been able to pick his voice out of a crowd. He was the only person she had seen for days, and he came as often as he could to keep her company, and she appreciated it with all her heart. But Sylvain had told her he would be busy all day with governmental affairs, and when she had heard, she had felt sadder than she would have thought possible, but she told herself that it was perfectly normal, since he was the only human being that she knew in the entire palace, besides the maid who came and went rapidly, and besides, he had affairs to attend to as a king and a general. "Coming!" she called hurriedly, swishing to the door quickly. When she pulled it open, she looked up the few scant inches difference in their heights and met his deep blue eyes. "Sylvain."

            He bowed elegantly–and slightly ironically, although his warm smile was open and friendly. "You were expecting someone else?"

            She scowled at him, but it only lasted a minute before turning into a wistful smile. "You know as well as I do that it couldn't possibly be anyone except you."

            "Ardice–are you so unhappy here?" The general's voice was soft, but it seemed to echo loudly throughout the room, and the unspoken "with me" could be felt keenly.

            "No, no, of course not," she replied quickly, but the words rang false. She bowed her head under his penetrating gaze and added, "You know that I–respect you, and that I...like you, and you've been extremely kind and thoughtful, but I want to leave here. And you won't let me go."

            'I could never let you go,' his heart whispered, but Sylvain merely nodded apologetically. "I'm sorry, but it's true."

            She sighed. He had been in such a good mood when he had come in, and she had ruined it. "Well, what are you doing here? I thought you would be cooped up all morning with those half-wits you call 'advisors.'"

            He had to smile, even though his thoughts were troubled. He decided, finally, to put them aside and enjoy the time they had together. "They aren't all stupid. Far from it, actually, since it is required that I keep a close eye on some of the more ambitious ones. But I was miraculously released, and I have decided to grace you with my honorable presence instead of doing more worthwhile, sensible things for the realm."

            Ordinarily, his faked high-and-mighty tone would have made her laugh, but Ardice merely smiled faintly. "And what did you have planned for us to do?"

            The brunet man indicated the case under his arm hesitantly. "Well, you saw my star charts, but they aren't the only things I draw. I'd go mad if I only had straight lines and dots to work with, but it's been a while since I've been inspired to do any portraits. It's nothing fancy–no paints or anything like that, just a sketch–but would you mind...if I asked you to sit for me?"

            She was both shocked and flattered, and she was silent for a few minutes as he focused his gaze on the floor. Finally, she nodded mutely. "Do I–do I look all right? Where do you want me to..sit?"

            Sylvain smiled at her brilliantly, and she felt her heart skip a beat. "Of course you do. I would want to paint you in anything you wanted to wear–including my sister's riding clothes. Sit anywhere you want to, as long as you're comfortable."

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

            "I think it's time to take a break," he said, getting up and stretching. She had chosen to stand by the window, with one arm along the sill. Below the balcony, guards were stationed at all times. Sylvain had managed to capture the sad, wistful expression on her face, and he didn't like it. Dusk had fallen, and the darkness outside was dazzling.

            She moved away from the glass and stretched as well, carefully avoiding his glance. It seemed to her that during his preliminary sketch, as he called it, Sylvain had been looking at her with much closer scrutiny–and emotion–than was needed. She sighed and looked back at the world outside her cage. She needed to leave here, and soon. 

            Sensing her restlessness, the King-General gripped her hand lightly and opened the doors, drawing her outside. Nodding down at the patrols beneath, he gave them the signal to disperse for the moment, and when they were alone, he turned to her with a bright smile. "I've been wanting to show you something."

            "And what exactly might that be?" She leaned over the railing precariously, taking in a deep breath of the cool night air.

            "Magic." She spun around to look at him sharply, accusingly, and he held up his hands to ward her off. "You keep denying that you don't know anything about it or the lights in the forest, and I'm not going to say whether I believe or disbelieve you. I just thought you'd be interested, but if it's a touchy subject..." 

            After a heated exchange, Ardice finally regained most of her good humor and acquiesced. She watched silently as he raised his arms slightly. 

            "Look up," he dictated softly, and she transferred her gaze skyward. Sylvain kept his eyes on her face, gauging her reaction. First, a wisp of silver light appeared in the heavens, among the stars, and it shone so brightly that it was visible even in competition to their brilliance. Slowly, it thickened and began to dance among the stars, drawing lines between them to form the constellations. As she turned to look at him in awe, he smiled gently and said, "Consider this your first lesson in astronomy–from me, at least." Slowly, Sylvain began to point out each constellation, with the help of his magic, and he also added the stories behind each shape. He told himself that this waste of magic was merely practice, and he _was_ out of shape. Her delight was plain, and it made the exhaustion of maintaining the carefully drawn lines and moving silver fade instantly. 

            When she began to yawn, despite her genuine interest, he set off an explosion of colors high in the sky, and she was jolted away. "What–?"

            "Fireworks! Just...without the fire and a little less danger to the general populace," he explained with a grin. Ardice smiled back at him, and when Sylvain carefully slipped his arm around her, she tensed slightly but relaxed quickly, leaning against him and into the embrace. And so they stood that way for quite a while, as his elation sent his powers careening across the sky in fanciful shapes and colors...and she was happy with him, with the moment...         

~*~ Avoiding the Inevitable ~*~

            She tossed and turned, beautiful face marred by the demons in her fretful sleep. She was a mere babe, a rambunctious child, a rebellious teenager, a lady, a middle-aged mother, and an old woman all at once. Gray light surrounded her but was edged with shadow, and she was frightened that the gray power would lose its fight and that the darkness would come...come like it had come to her homes. A great burst of gold-green light cut in and made its way into her inner psyche, and she sighed as it washed over her in gentle waves. However, it too retreated soon and left her alone in the dark.

            Isadora suddenly found herself dressed in a sweeping, scarlet dress, wandering around a palace. She was sure it wasn't the Moon Palace, but it looked awfully familiar. There was blood splashed on the porcelain tiles and staining the walls and bodies lying everywhere, equally crimson...weapons were piled at successive intervals carelessly, thrown aside by their masters...and she walked forth through it all. The stench of death filled her nose and the air around her, and she wanted to cry. She _did_ cry eventually, and the tears fairly flew down her cheeks. 

            Pushing open a door as she reached up to wipe them away, instead, she covered her mouth in horror. This was the throne room, she remembered suddenly, the throne room of Mars. The last time she had been there, her parents had been awaiting her with brilliantly sad smiles. She had been going to the Moon... They lay there together, her father's head on a pike, his headless body holding evidence of multiple, cruelly-inflicted wounds. Her mother's fine clothing was whipped to rags, and she lay crumpled and broken, lacking the grace Isadora had identified with her since she had been a little girl. It was Mars as she imagined it, for she had been told the manner of her father and mother's deaths. She hadn't seen it with her eyes, so this was her mind's imagining of the place. They were gone, and she was alone, with all the death and destruction....until a new color glowed into existence. It was tinted a celestial blue, and the power pulsed healthily as it tugged at her. Go back, it seemed to demand, go back. Stop walking through these dreams. 

            When Isadora reached for it, she fell into another landscape: the desert. This time, there were cacti thriving and lizards running around as birds of prey circled overhead. The wind was still there, but it was more friendly and welcoming than her memory. She saw miles and miles of footprints. Dimly, she wondered, were they hers? Then Isadora laughed aloud, surprised at the merry sound. Of course her path had long been covered up by winds and more sand. The azure blue aura swept her up again, carrying her back, pulling her away from the fevered dreams. Before she went with it, willingly, Isadora smiled as she thought that the color was like fresh water, the enticing lake she had found at the oasis. Dreams like these had gone on and on for days without her realizing it, and they were all very similar, although none of them were exactly alike. Suddenly, she wondered, what oasis? What water? 

            The vivid scene was replaced by an elegantly-furnished room, and the fistfuls of golden sand turned to slightly-damp handfuls of covers, clutched tightly in her feverish sleep. Her raven hair felt tangled and tousled, and she recognized the source of the winds in her dreams as the light, playful breeze issuing in from the window, which was opened a crack to let in fresh air. It had been several days, she guessed, judging by how refreshed and sleep-replenished she felt, since she had talked to Pyralis and cried on his shoulders. She had suffered a sudden relapse, and through her delirium, explored the dark shadows hidden in her mind. But now her mind felt clearer. 

            A slight shift of movement attracted Isadora's attention, and she glanced at the chair pulled up to her bedside. Or rather, she noticed the person sitting _in_ the chair. Her eyes took in his features as avidly as a beloved lover's might: his hair had been caressed and ruffled by the draft from the window, his bright azure eyes were closed in sleep, but a sweet smile remained on his face. The slightest bit of mischievous, good-natured playfulness remained in the corners of his slightly-open mouth, and he looked as innocent as a sleeping child she had happened upon in the forest. Pyralis must have spent quite a while with her, she realized, for the shade of blue she recognized as his now had made itself clearly present within her dreams and chased away the nightmares. His unselfish devotion touched her deeply, and she reached out a hand to brush it lightly over his bangs, his sleeping eyelids, and finally his lips. Then Isadora snatched her hand back, as if burned. She looked down at it, feeling heat flood through her body and especially her face, and noticed that the burns and cuts were mostly gone. 

            At her touch, he began to stir, and she quickly closed her eyes and lay back. With her eyes tightly shut, she heard him stretch and yawn. She also felt him lean over her, felt him feeling her forehead and tucking the sheets around her more comfortably. Then he moved away, and a few seconds later, Isadora heard the soft thud of the window shutting. She thought he would leave then, but the creaks of the floor stopped, and he seemed to be standing motionless. She didn't dare open her eyes to peek at him, feeling her heart beat rapidly. She wondered if he could hear it, then dismissed the idea. At last, she felt his fingertips brushing her face, and she waited, breathlessly, as he traced the contours of her face tenderly. He drew away, and she yearned for his touch to return. He left abruptly, quickly, and she felt a sharp sense of loneliness and abandon. She opened her eyes, and he was gone.

            Suddenly, she recalled that she had remembered nothing before. She relieved that awful feeling of mistaken identity, total cluelessness, and loss. Isadora began to weep bitterly, silently. She had forgotten that intrinsic part of her that was so important. It meant nothing that she had managed to conceal her true persona by giving the name Isadora. Rei was the name she had carried for all of her life except for a few days ago, the one she had always thought she would claim as her own, and she had forgotten it in a heartbeat. Her entire past, everything that had meant something to her, her friends, Selena–she had forgotten them. 

            She wanted to run, she wanted to continue crying, and she wanted to die. Most of all, she wanted to hurl something, anything–hard–at the beautiful things surrounding her to ruin their somehow complacent flawlessness. A red haze rose up around her, filling her eyes, and Isadora threw off her covers and her mind-clouding pain. 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

            Pyralis had not known that the particular room he had given his impromptu guest was directly above Roshaun's study until several loud, distracting thuds and crashes from above. As such disturbances, when not issuing forth from the kitchen, were extremely rare, he dropped everything (literally, resulting in quite a mass of thoroughly-mixed paperwork for him to struggle with afterwards) and searched for the cause of the noises. Wishing, not for the first time, that the Northern Palace was not quite so big nor unfamiliar to him, he was heralded along in the proper direction by more ominous bumps and clanks. Needless to say, he was shocked, having just left her sound asleep, with the fever finally gone–or so he thought. Throwing open the door, cutting quite an imposing figure in the doorway (or so he liked to think), the Eastern General demanded, "What in all hells is going on in here?!"

            Furiously, she whirled around, still dressed in her makeshift nightgown. She panicked almost immediately: here he was, ready to arrest her and turn her in to the King of Earth, and she wasn't going to stand for any of his tricks, like the one he had used to get her name. And his touch...no, she wouldn't allow herself to think about that. _He_ was the one responsible for her amnesia, and the object in her hand flew out at him without her quite meaning to, despite her anger. 

            The King-General's impossibly brilliant blue eyes widened, and he ducked quickly and watched as the incoming projectile smashed into the wall behind him. 'She's got better aim than Sylvain,' was his first coherent thought after his mind had recovered from the shock. 

            Immediately, the tempest that had seemed to have taken place in the now-disordered room settled down, and Isadora dropped to the ground as if all the strength had fled from her bones. "Are you all right? I'm so–I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you..."

            He smiled weakly as he dropped his hands, which he had raised to protect himself from any more of her barrages. "I'm fine. You, on the other hand, look as though you could use a little more rest and less throwing things around." When he tried to pick her up, she shied away from him.  "What's wrong? If you can't stand yourself, I'll have to carry you. You're also in need of another bed, since this one's sheets appear to have been suitably disposed of on the floor." When he attempted to pick her up once more, he actually made contact with her skin, and she flinched away violently. Pyralis finally understood then, and a terrible sadness rose in his heart. "Why are you suddenly afraid of me?"

            "I'm not afraid of you, _your highness_. I fear no man." 'Except the king,' her mind added traitorously.  

            Pyralis merely stood by, watching her, as her shoulders shook with unshed tears. It was the second time he had done so, and he felt no less uncomfortable than he had the first time. When she looked up at him, exquisitely-purple eyes daring him to comment, he remarked neutrally, "I don't think I've ever met anyone with such a flash-fire temper. One minute you're burning as hot as fire; the next minute, you've cooled down to harmless embers."

            She allowed herself a tiny smile. "My father used to tell me he couldn't stand my temper and that no man would, if I didn't curb it. He said I got it from my mother." Then the smile faded, for her parents had been taken by warriors of the Earth. She would cry no more, she promised herself, especially in front of him. He was dangerous, and she had already increased the peril for her princess and the others. 

            He saw the way her eyes closed briefly, as in pain, then opened shining more brightly than ever. And he was afraid of the effect she had on him, an effect that made him want to throw caution to the winds and stay here forever, learning anything and everything about her.

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

            "Where are we...what are you doing?" Isadora asked suspiciously when Pyralis beckoned to her the next day. 

            He smiled cheerfully, waving at Marinel, who had a grouchy expression on his face as he took her hand in his gently. "I figured you'd be more comfortable back at the Eastern Palace–granted, it's no less rough a place than these ice fields, but at least it won't be as hellishly cold. Roshaun doesn't like me messing around in his castle, anyway–he thinks I rearrange his papers and mess up his ordered study."

            "Do you?" she asked curiously.

            He grinned wider and said nothing else about the subject. "People react differently to teleportation, but I don't think you'll have any problems with it. I'll do my best not to land on any more unfortunate people. There is a downside to instant transport, though–you're going to have to trust me. Really trust me, I mean." 

            She glanced at him sharply, and he met her eyes levelly.

            "If you don't, I may have to drag you along behind me in mid-teleport, and it's not a comfortable experience. It's happened to me before, and it's not an experience I'd like to repeat or wish on anyone else. So what do you say?" 

            Isadora bit her lip for a few minutes before nodding silently. Closing her eyes, she felt a sort of peace infusing her spirit, one of a soft blue hue. When she opened her eyes again, as he released her hand, she blinked when she realized that they were no longer in the Northern Palace. "What–what happened?"

            "That, my very dear, was a teleport. You did wonderfully," he grinned jovially. Blissfully ignoring her startled expression, he looked backwards over his shoulder as she began to trail after him and asked with a roguish wink, "See what fantastic things are accomplished when you trust me?"

            Feeling a headache coming on, she snapped, "Yes, I do. It makes you look like you have an even bigger head–and ego–than you already do." His surprised laughter rang out good-naturedly in the halls, and to his delight, she joined in a few seconds later. 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

            Unfortunately, by the afternoon, his good humor and elation had faded. Pyralis paced along the wall, not caring that his footing was precarious and that he only had another few inches before he was in danger of toppling over the wall. He had already dealt with hundreds of problems upon his impromptu return, and there were thousands more waiting for his attention. Isadora had been shunted aside rather unceremoniously, and she hadn't appreciated the speculative looks and whispers. Pyralis was not appreciating the fact that sooner or later, he would have to explain why the residents of his castle were unsurprised by his turning up unexpectedly with a female companion. He was confused, he was tired, and he wanted to escape all the conflicts he seemed to be finding himself entrapped in. 

            The most vexing of these exquisite complications was his beautiful, fiery-tempered visitor, and what he was doing with her. Or perhaps the right thing to say was what he _wasn't_ doing with her.  He was almost one hundred percent positive that she had been one of the causes of the mysterious flashes of light in the forest that night that seemed so long ago... She had been completely unfazed by his teleport, falling into the sequence rather naturally, and the only time he had felt sensation other than utter relaxation and trust had been surprise, at the very end of the teleport, as if she hadn't expected to be over already. He wasn't even sure she had realized when they had departed from the Northern Palace. Knowing this, he should have told the king. He should have questioned her. He should have kept her under lock and key, with plenty of soldiers to guard her. But he hadn't, and it was too late now. 

            Somehow, he had grown attached to her during the days of watching her toss fitfully in her sleep, chasing away her nightmares, and worrying himself to death over her condition. He knew the contours of her face, a breathtaking visage, as well as he knew his own. But Pyralis had looked at his face almost every single day of his life, and he had only seen hers for a few days. There was more than mere physical beauty to his attraction, however–and he suddenly began to realize it was an attraction. Isadora shone with an inner fire, and she lit up everything around her with life. Something in her called out to him, and his entire soul was motivated to respond. 

            When she cried, he wanted to right all the wrongs in a world that was doomed to be imperfect. He was angry when he could only stand by helplessly, feeling her pain and sorrow. When she had lain hurt and walked in delirious nightmares, Pyralis had wanted nothing more than to be with her in her time of need, matching her stride for stride through the familiar and the unfamiliar. He had wanted to vanquish those imaginary foes and heal her. The former, he had been successful at–the latter had called for Marinel's attention. It was amazing how resentful he had felt towards his friend, but at the same time, Pyralis's joy had had no limits when she had awoken after her long slumber. A fierce, uncompromising light had shown in her eyes, and he was jolted by it every time he met her eyes: it was unparalleled courage, a fighting spirit, unbounded passion, unyielding protectiveness, unbreakable loyalty...and unspeakable grief. He had never met anyone like her; no one had ever had such an effect upon him. 

            Pyralis leaned his chin in his hands as he rested his elbows on the sturdy gray stone before him. He looked down and felt the familiar, mixed rush of elation, fear, and exhilaration as he gazed at the distance to the ground. Then he went back to his musings. There had been several times in his life that he had believed himself to be in love. None of them had turned out to be the real thing. But then again, none of them had ever felt like how he felt towards Isadora. And then the general had to brace himself when he realized what he was thinking about. It was impossible. Improbable. Completely out of the question. It could not be...but it was.

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Quick AN: Before you read on...the reason I split this chapter into 2 parts is because it was longer than usual... Sorry for the lack of action ^^;; but it'll come soon. I think. But I hope Rei/Jade fans are happy :). Next chapter, I actually give Lita/Neph more spotlight...but go to part 2 first ^.~


	9. Battlements are Pleasant Company Part 2

Chapter 5: Battlements are Pleasant Company (Part 2)

~*~ Prince of Ice ~*~

            His green eyes frosty, Marinel watched from above as the ambassador, accompanied by Meriel, strolled through Roshaun's carefully cultivated greenhouse. As he observed from fifty feet above them, the cold fury that had closed around his locked heart allowed jealousy to creep in. Shaking himself, he tore his gaze away and looked out over the vast landscape. The icy, sharp breeze brushed more color into his pale cheeks, and as he stood on the high bastion alone, with the wind rustling through his hair and making his cloak ripple, he looked like a king–which he was, of course. But there was unhappiness written in every line of him. Over the past few days, he had seen less of Meriel than he would have wished. She had dedicated most of her time to cementing her image as his sister–except that none of it had been spent with him. Instead, she had been entertaining–or being entertained by–the king's emissary, who Marinel deeply detested.  

            There was more to it than the fact that he couldn't figure out this woman's secrets, although he knew he would have to. Sooner or later, he would be called away, and he didn't feel comfortable leaving her there alone. He wouldn't feel comfortable knowing she was with that conniving diplomat. As it was, he didn't trust her. He knew she was brilliant. She had powers that were harnessed by strong control; likewise, her composure could not be shaken. The initial softness that he had felt when she had been injured, when he had carried her up the stairs, had been quickly replaced by grudging admiration for her abilities. He was formal and polite whenever they were together, and that was always when there were other people in the same room. Marinel frowned. He would have to make the effort to seek her out soon.

            He was feeling restless and impatient. He would have preferred to return to the West, but he had qualms about leaving the ambassador alone–or at least without his own sharp eye to watch over him, and the general was used to trusting no one except himself and the others–in Roshaun's home. He had heard of recent, troubling events in the capital, and he did not expect the Northern general to be able to return anytime soon. Thus, he managed the affairs of the West from afar and still kept both palaces in running order. Everything seemed to be quiet...a little too quiet, in his opinion. A commotion below made him rethink his prior thoughts–everything was peaceful...except for one pompous ambassador. 

            Against his better judgement, he had sent Pyralis home. With Isadora, who had apparently recovered her memory–not that the Eastern King-General had done anything about it, his comrade thought sourly. It wasn't that he was trying to be tactful or considerate; Marinel was definitely not known for his subtlety. The other three had compared his bluntness to a sword that had lain untouched for a thousand years, rusting over with time. He had just wanted to rid the castle of two mysterious women, which would definitely have attracted the king's attention. Instead, it was known at the Eastern Palace that the King-General Pyralis had returned home for a vacation of sorts with, as usual, a female companion. Meanwhile, Marinel had to deal with two castles, a false sister who he really had to interrogate, and an annoying man. 

            'Marinel...'

            Sighing, he concentrated on the summons from afar. Sylvain sounded distant and preoccupied. 'Yes?'

            'Er...have you heard anything from Roshaun recently?'

            'No. Should I have? If you are, tell him to get back here as soon as I can. I have enough to handle as it is. Why has he been closeted with the king for so long?'

            'He's...um...there's no other way to put it. Marinel, he's getting _married_.'

            The blond general spluttered incoherently for a few minutes. '_What?!_'

            'I'm getting very secondhand information here, and both Pyralis and I have tried to approach him, but he refuses to talk to any of us mind-to-mind. Apparently one of the princesses showed up. It seemed like a joke until she scrubbed off all the dirt from her trip or something like that, and she's been confirmed as the Princess of Venus. Except she's the queen now. And she's marrying Roshaun, because there were betrothed over ten years ago.'

            'If this is some sort of trick, Sylvain–'

            'I'm not lying!'

            They debated the topic until Sylvain was interrupted by some matter in the Southern Palace, and Marinel scowled darkly to himself as he paced atop the battlements. After another fifteen minutes of trying to digest the impossible news–Roshaun, married? Never!–he stopped short, his thoughts scattering haphazardly through his mind as a new idea occurred to him. Roshaun, if whatever source Sylvain had gotten the news from was correct, was marrying a princess that had shown up suddenly. There were only four princesses of the planets left; he knew where the Moon Queen and the Outer Queens were being held. No sane woman would have given herself willingly to the King of Earth given their circumstances, but this one was clever enough to know that if Roshaun had to marry her, she would be granted some sort of immunity. Marinel wondered if the king was planning to let her live. Still, as far as he knew, he wasn't engaged to any princess. It seemed that they had been separated, and only one had shown herself. The others would not be attracting attention to themselves, not if they could help it. 

            Their destination must be Pluto. Or, they could be stupid or desperate enough to try to save the Queen of the Moon and the others locked up with her. At any rate, the remaining three princesses would have placed themselves in prime positions to siphon news about the queen or to find a way to the only safe haven available to them. Three missing princesses. Three mysterious women that had appeared: one in the forest from which lights had emanated the night the Moon Kingdom had fallen, the other two the next day–one in the ice fields, one in the desert. All the pieces fell together now, and Marinel felt like an idiot for not realizing it earlier. The concept, such coincidence, had been so unlikely that his mind had refused to even consider it. 

            He began to ponder over the three women he had healed. What had thrown him off was how different than he had seemed, but now he knew better. Their inner selves held similarities that he had not realized before. They all had possessed a sort of inborn dignity, steel resolve, and courage. Supreme courage. He looked down once more, and he was shocked when his eyes met Meriel's ocean-blue ones.

~*~                  ~*~                        ~*~                        ~*~                        ~*~

            Over dinner that night, he kept watching her, and his suspicions seemed to be confirmed. This was no ordinary woman. She was the Queen of Mercury. And he had no idea what to do about it. He sighed. Because of what he found out, he suddenly viewed Meriel in a whole new light, and he found that he could no longer be as objective as before. She was beautiful, of course, and the delicate fragility of her slim form remained. However, all and any doubts Marinel had originally held about her courage and intelligence had fled. She was brilliant–either that or he was being stupider than ever. It was probably a little of both. She was the bravest woman–no, bravest _person_–that he knew. His admiration of her had tripled, and he found himself intrigued by the many layers and depth she had to character. He told himself that wasn't turning her over to the king merely because he wanted to fully assess the threat. Given time, he might discover some of the secrets she held or where the other princesses were. 

            Marinel sighed. He _knew_ where all the other princesses were, and he was lying to himself, something he could never do for long. Had the king appeared before him at the moment, demanding to know the whereabouts of the Mercurian princess, he would lie without a qualm. However, he felt unsettled. Already, this indefinable pull to the aura of mystery that lingered around Meriel had formed, and he was beginning to think himself attracted to her, which was a dangerous thing. Perhaps it was just her physical beauty that drew him. Or it could be her unprecedented mind. It could be her unsurpassed courage. And then again, it could just be because he couldn't have her. Such a thing would never have worked out. And yet, his mind drifted back to the news of Roshaun's upcoming marriage. 

            The King-General gazed moodily into his food, ignoring the questioning glances from both the ambassador and Meriel–who were dining with him, of course. His standards for himself were extremely high, and they were only slightly lower for anyone other than himself. No woman had ever been able to stand those demands for long, and he had long given up hope of finding the perfect woman. He had been hurt so many times before by those who could not accept his nature that he had closed himself off entirely to the world. His past had not helped him in these matters, either. Marinel's strict, unloving father was dead, having died on Mercury–a sardonic smile curved his mouth–and his troops had revenged themselves upon the royal family...Meriel's family. Surely she knew what had happened to him, for Mercury had fallen before the Moon. 

            Again, Marinel wondered how she shoulders had withstood that crushing burden so well. She looked as though she was merely recovering from a physical illness that was not too serious. And yet, he remembered what one of the servants had told him that afternoon: the lady had not been sleeping well, and she was often restless. Most often, she disappeared into the library and did not emerge until well past midnight. Perhaps he would pay her a visit.

~*~                  ~*~                        ~*~                        ~*~                        ~*~

            Meriel's brow furrowed slightly as her hands passed over the spines of the books in a pensive gesture. Her lips were pursed as she considered the titles. For once, she was unable to seek solace in the land of knowledge...and the land of unreality. She had been studying tomes of science, mathematics, and Terran history, but there had also been a section of fictional books that had drawn and captivated her attention. She would come down each night to immerse herself in the pages upon pages of words, carefully copied by scribes–nothing but the best for the King-Generals, she reminded herself. 

            Tonight was different than the others, when her mind had taken happily to a retreat of sorts. She couldn't bear being cooped up in this palace, reverting to a lifestyle so much like the one she had led on the Moon. In fact, her schedule two weeks ago had been remarkably similar to the one she followed now. Meriel was normally an extremely patient person. However, she was tired of staying in the Northern Palace. She was tired of entertaining the ambassador. She was tired of having to deal with Marinel's constant suspicion and the watch he set over her. What she wanted was to be able to find her friends...and yet, Meriel was able to recognize how profitable the position she was in could be. While she had been talking to the ambassador, she had been trying to glean news of the queen's whereabouts. 

            Her thoughts kept jumping back to dinner that night. As usual, she had made small-talk with the ambassador, even though his nasal voice and unsubtle personality was grating on her nerves. However, she had felt the uncomfortable sensation of being watched, and each time she looked up, she met level green eyes. And each time she flushed and looked away immediately. It was fortunate that the ambassador was not a very intelligent man. Or perhaps he was just unobservant. Marinel was at the center of her problems. The more she saw of him, the more she liked the person he was–no matter how formal and closed he tried to be, aspects of a living personality shone through. She was even willing to disregard his brash words to her when he had spoken to her for the first time–aloud. 

            Meriel had been careful to avoid him because of his lasting suspicion. She knew he didn't trust her completely; she didn't trust him with her identity. He was just too smart. Her friends had always bet that she would never meet her mental match, but it seemed that they had been wrong. Only now, it didn't matter in quite the romantic way they'd been discussing in. If he managed to figure out that she was one of the missing Inner Princesses, she would be doomed. He was a King-General, and his loyalty was to the King and throne of Earth. There was more to the situation than his brains, although they presented the most immediate problem.

            Ever since he had carried her up the stairs–forcibly, despite her embarrassment and protests–she had wondered what it would be like to be in his arms again. He had felt so warm to her, so comforting, and so solid. Meriel had always needed support when she had been a child, when she had been growing up into a young woman. She had found her escape in knowledge and fantasy when she could not draw upon her friends' strength. Now, more than ever, she needed to drawn on someone's reliable strength, but she knew it could not be Marinel's. She was too desperate, and to stay alive in the harsh world she had been introduced to so suddenly, she had to remain as far away from him as possible, no matter how much she liked him. No matter if she was beginning to feel attracted to him, no matter if a jolt of electricity ran through her as easily as it was conducted by water every time her eyes met his. And speak of the devil...

            Seeing that he had her attention, Marinel nodded cordially. Judging from the relaxed way he leaned against one of the two bookshelves that hemmed them in a narrow corridor, he had been there for quite some time. 

            She jumped, then backed away from him nervously. "I'm sorry–I didn't see you here."

            "Good evening." His voice and manner seemed less sharp than usual. What Meriel was unaware of was that she was the cause of it. While she had been lost in thought–about him–he had watched her, feeling pained when he noticed the grievous expression on her face.

            Shyly, she repeated the greeting, still sidling away.

            He pursued her relentlessly, and although he would not have looked threatening to an onlooker, she was petrified. "I was recently notified of your nightly visits to the library. You do, of course, have access to it whenever you wish. However, I'd rather you spent your nights replenishing your sleep."

            "I find it hard to fall asleep."

            He raised his eyebrows. "Are you really? You've been so busy during the day that I thought it would have been easier for you to sleep. Spending so much time with the king's envoy must be tiring for you."

            Meriel lifted her head slightly, staring at him. His face remained impassive, but his eyes held a spark of humor. Deciding to try and bring it out, she stopped backing away from him and replied, "Actually, it is rather exhausting to have him talking at you constantly. I've never met someone like him before."

            The corners of his mouth twitched, but he remained unsmiling. "Truthfully? Unfortunately, I have. They're all just like him."

            "And how would you describe them?"

            "Ambitious, boot-licking, boring, and completely transparent," he reeled off without the slightest change in expression.

            Meriel, however, laughed in delight. "You're an excellent judge of character, your highness."

            He had begun to relax enough to smile, but he frowned at that. "Aren't you supposed to call me by my name? Unless, of course, you've forgotten it."

            "No, I–" 

            "Since we haven't had the opportunity to talk much," he finished deliberately.

            The dark-haired woman flushed, and she looked down at her hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that you wanted to speak to me. Any time, then, if you'd like to have a word, I'll oblige you. It would be nice if you were considerate enough to seek me out when I'm with that annoying envoy, of course."

            Marinel allowed himself to smirk slightly. He had gained the upper hand, and she was showing him more of her extremely complex character. "Tomorrow." She blinked perplexedly, and he clarified, "I want to teleport to the docks to check how things are going there. It's part of state business and all that. Come with me."

            "I'd be glad to...but...aren't the docks far away from here?" she inquired, with a bemused glance at the windows, where the peaks of snow-capped mountains could be seen.

            "I thought I'd introduce you to teleportation." He watched her carefully to gauge her expression but noted nothing but polite interest. She was very, very clever. His respect rose another notch. "Actually, the business at the docks is not so urgent. It's strange, but I find it relaxing to work for a few hours by the sea, helping to haul crates and such. I've been down there before without entourage, and the usual workers who help to load and unload the incoming ships will recognize me–not as a general, of course, but a wanderer who turns up every so often, like a bad penny."

            She smiled brightly at him. "It sounds wonderful. I've always liked being near the water."

            "Then I'll meet you tomorrow morning, at dawn. The ships will set out then, and not too many people will be there. Do you still want to come?" he asked with a teasing smile. When she nodded, he replied, "Then go to sleep." She wrinkled her nose at him and left, leaving him the impression of an otherworldly sprite, of whose presence he could not be sure of. She was so confusing, had so many aspects to her personality, that he couldn't identify her with the polite hostess who had come to be accepted as his sister. Marinel sighed and departed for bed himself, preparing to think on the matter in his chambers. To his surprise, he was able to fall asleep quickly, with a restful, peaceable look upon his face. 

~*~ Falling in Love With Love ~*~ 

            Kiora rested her hands on the cool stone before her. An elaborate set of rooms had been assigned to her, and the balcony she stood upon had a nice view of Elysion. It glowed rosy-pink in the sun's dying light, but she was too troubled to admire the landscape. Once she had bathed and was attired fitting her rank, there was no chance of mistaking her for anyone except the woman in the portrait of herself and the other Inner Princesses the king had recovered from the Moon Palace. She was upset–although she had no right to be. With all the fuss over the coming wedding, Annamika had been overlooked. She had a small room adjourning Kiora's, and she was safe–for the moment. They were both moderately safe...as long as she was marrying Roshaun.

            That required her to act civil towards him, which was a difficult task for her. Not only did she consider him a lying, cowardly, deceptive man, she really had no idea what to expect from him. She didn't know him. She had never known him. And she didn't want to make the effort to. All she wanted as to survive, for the time being, and to get Annamika to Pluto somehow. If Kiora displeased him in any way, he would have the excuse to break off their engagement, and she knew the king would be too happy to oblige. She had seen, in his eyes, that he wanted the threat she posed out of the way. Had Roshaun not agreed to the whole affair, she would probably be in the dungeons right now instead of in a fancy gown, surrounded by fine things and beauty. She still couldn't figure out why he had saved her.

            A spark of excitement ran through her: Kiora had found out, rather quickly, where the queen and the Outers were being held. To see them, all she would have to do was sneak through the palace at night, all the way down to the dungeons, and past a platoon of guards. It couldn't be that hard, she told herself. But it was. When Kiora looked in the mirror, she saw a different person than she had seen when she had looked in the mirror so many times before, in a different life. Her eyes were older, and there were faint scars on her face and neck. When she smiled, the light was still there, but it was dampened somewhat. She was no longer oblivious to the harsh realities of life. She had been torn from a pampered life, where she had known nothing but luxury and some duty–but only that which befit a princess. The hardest things she had had to endure was separation from her family, occasional spats with her friends, and minor weapons training. Then the news about her family had came. 

            Kiora had not had time to grieve before her meager skills had been called upon to protect the princess. She had talent with a sword, but because she was who she was, she hadn't been trained well. None of them had been. And now, Kiora still didn't have the time to think about what she had lost. That guileless, carelessly-given smile was gone. Her perfect world had shattered. And if she wept, everything would be lost. A knock sounded on the door, and she gave its reflection in the large looking-glass a considering look. Tilting her chin up slightly, Kiora studied the arrogance it gave to her features and straightened her shoulders with a deep breath. 

~*~                  ~*~                        ~*~                        ~*~                        ~*~

            Roshaun stood stiffly and silently–as he usually did. Court functions never ceased to bore him. he spoke when spoken to and danced when asked. Most of the time, he tried to blend into the crowd (although he was a foot taller than every other man present, and his silvery hair acted like a beacon) and watched the dancers–or one dancer. He was having a hard time understanding Kiora. Roshaun was pretty sure she hated him. Except...every time she had spoken to him in the palace, she had been all bright smiles and cordial words. He could admire her from a distance: she circulated the room, conversing with ease, an engaging, rapt expression on her face. She was charming, and very few in the packed ballroom had not been won over. Despite her success, however, Roshaun saw that she tiring.

            He couldn't imagine what it must be like for her: she was trapped in a roomful of people, forced to smile, laugh, dance, and talk with them. She could trust no one, and they all harbored ill-sentiment towards her. She also had no allies, as she knew no one besides him and the king, and she didn't know a thing about Terran politics and their leaders–and yet, Kiora had been able ti pick them out effortlessly and talk with knowledge of their affairs. Roshaun shook his head and quickly withdrew his foot a few inches, lest an enthusiastic lady's heel crush it. As the song ended, he excused himself with a bland smile to the count he had been mindlessly conversing with and made his way over to his betrothed. Roshaun still couldn't mask his inward surprise when he thought about those words. His betrothed. And yet...he secretly admitted that he liked the idea, as he looked upon her.

            Kiora had felt his eyes on her the entire night, and although she had felt tense and annoyed, she had seen the admiration in his eyes and felt flattered despite herself. When he approached, she turned, still smiling politely.

            "Good evening, gentlemen. If I could steal my intended for the next dance?"

            Of course, they could not protest, and Kiora placed her hand in his readily, feeling nervous. "My lord."

            He acknowledged her with a sardonic smile and a half-bow. "Kiora." The first notes of the dance trembled delicately in the air, and they began the steps. "You dance very well."

            "Thank you. but these dances are no so much different than those I already know."

            She said the words without any hesitation, and he suspected that she had already said the same words several times that night. "I see. And are you enjoying yourself?"

            "Of course." Kiora tried to make herself relax, but she couldn't. As long as he was near her, and especially when his hands were on her, her body tingled from the closeness. She told herself that she couldn't possibly be attracted to him–but she was.

            Roshaun was feeling much the same as her long, sunlit hair drifted over his hands. "You don't have to lie to me."

            She raised an eyebrow. "Don't I?"

            "No."

            After a few minutes of silence, Kiora felt the numerous pairs of curious eyes fixed upon them–especially the king's. "Tell me about yourself. We don't really know anything about each other, and I'd like to remedy the situation."

            The Northern King-General smiled faintly. "There isn't much to say. I'm silent and still as stone, unsociable, dictatorial, demanding, arrogant, and I have absolutely no tolerance for anyone's shortcomings, let alone my own. Basically, I'm completely inhuman."

            She laughed, a genuine laugh, before she stopped herself. She had to remember that he was an enemy and that one false step could land her in the dungeons. It was like walking across a tiled floor–one never knew which misstep would send them hurtling through a trap door. The only that was preventing that at the moment was Roshaun, and she wanted to know why. But she would have to be smart, smarter than she had ever needed to be, and cautious. "You've told me what people say about you," she observed levelly, "why don't you tell me what you think about yourself?"

            "Very perceptive of you. All right. I'm a simple man–I despise needless bloodshed and cruelty. I don't like breaking promises when I've given my word." Her eyes flashed alarmingly, and he continued quickly. "Possibly the only people I care about in this world are the prince, Marinel, Pyralis, and Sylvain."

            "And they would be the other King-Generals?" she guessed.

            "Yes. I trained them all, and they are closer to me than anyone else could possibly understand."

            Kiora bit her lip and remained silent.

            He continued, "I haven't seen them recently. It's unsettling. Sylvain and Pyralis are in their respective homes, since no situations that require our services have arisen. They're managing the affairs of the South and the East."

            "What about your home?"

            "Marinel–the Western King-General–currently resides there. Because it's so remote, the North has always been one of the easiest–and hardest–places to conquer."

            She smiled ironically. "Because of its location, it's hard to get to. And yet, anyone who could get there with a large enough portion of their army intact would have a pretty easy time taking over if you're here, in Elysion. If he's in the North, who is in the West?"

            Roshaun sighed and shrugged. "His chamberlains, I guess. It's been a while since I've talked to them. I don't even know what's happened to them the past few days. Of course, nothing major could have occurred–the king would have heard of that."

            "I think...as long as you feel them in your heart, they're fine." 

            He eyed her astutely and asked, "Do you feel the same way about the Inner Princesses?"

            "Yes."

            "What is your relationship with them like?"

            Kiora's tone and eyes grew frosty as she replied, "It's much the same as yours. If you'll forgive me, I'd rather not discuss them."

            "I'm sorry. I'd forgotten that they were...deceased." He made a mental note that she had talked of them as if they were still alive. He had not believed her when she had told the king. But, among her many qualities and talents, she was an excellent actress.

            The song ended, and he would have let her return to her previous companions, but she said, "If it wouldn't inconvenience you, may I suggest another dance?"

            He bowed elegantly. "As you wish. Although I'm rather curious about the reasoning behind your request. I keep getting the feeling that you don't entirely trust me, Kiora."

            "If you were in my position–would you? I trust no one. I'll stop putting on the show for you, since you think yourself so perceptive. Why are you agreeing to this?" He just looked at her questioningly, and Kiora sighed. "You know what I'm talking about, Kunzite. Why did you agree to marry me?"

            "We're betrothed. I'm bound to it."

            "You aren't fooling me with any of that. You broke the promise you made to me the same day that treaty was forged, and you couldn't care less."

            "On the contrary. I feel very badly about it. But you don't seem to understand that I do feel guilty. And yet, I made the promise to you when we were both young. You know how the hierarchy on Earth works now. As the son of the Northern King-General, as my father was alive before and during the fall of the planets, I didn't have much say in what the king commanded. I was one man struggling against prejudice, paranoia, and hysteria. You should be lucky that I'm alive to keep you from getting your head chopped off." 

            Angrily, she demanded, "So you think I should be thanking you for that?"

            "I don't think you understand the situation. We both know you're reasonably smart by now. You're desperate–otherwise, you wouldn't be hanging on to that petty promise. Would you use some sense and let it go? You have more important things to worry about. I'm more occupied with keeping your pretty head attached to your neck."

            Kiora glared at him, ignoring the curious spectators. "Well, thank you for dedicating some of your precious time to my problems, your highness. I'm so honored by your attention."

            "See? There you go again. You have some–very little–right to be angry with me, and yet, whenever you drop the facade, I'm always on the receiving end of your anger."

            "It's your fault for provoking me!"

            "No, it isn't!" he protested.

            "Yes, it is!" she insisted. Suddenly, she dropped her hands from his shoulders to cover her mouth and laughed helplessly. 

            Mystified, Roshaun inquired, "Pardon my error, but am I missing something here? Was it something I said?"

            "No–yes. I was just remembering the last time I acted so...childish." Before he could scowl, Kiora added softly, "It was on the Moon, with my friends. Before...things changed. I'm sorry–I need some air."

            He caught her arm as she tried to reach the nearest balcony and supported her as waves of memories assaulted her.

            She managed to keep her gaze straight and focused as they made their way over the balcony. Thankfully, it was empty, and they were concealed from the prying eyes of the populace by heavy curtains. She leaned over the railing, trying to catch her breath. She was determined not to cry–especially in front of him. And yet, she wanted so badly to be able grieve for her friends, her family, her shattered dreams, her broken life. 

            "Mina."

            Instantly, she raised her head to look at him. The sound of her name, which no one had addressed her by for what seemed to be an eternity, dissolved her into quiet tears. She cried without reservation, because she saw compassion and empathy in his eyes. She didn't even protest when he gathered her carefully into his arms, and he made no comment as his shoulder became slightly damp. 

            When she finally regained her composure, they returned to the loud room of revelry and chatter. No words had been exchanged, but they had silently agreed that he would not mention the incident if she no longer acted antagonistic towards him because of his broken promise. They weren't friends. They weren't in love. But they had accepted the workings of fate–and each other.

~*~                  ~*~                        ~*~                        ~*~                        ~*~

AN: In which all the generals do a lot of musing and nothing much gets accomplished...and Zoi finally figures out the obvious. Yay. Now what does he do about it? Something stupid, of course. ^.~ I'm so sorry it took a horrendously long time for this to get out . Sorry!! I had a bad time with the last section, which I rewrote three times (twice during school, which may have accounted for the mess-ups). Hopefully Chapter 6 will take me less time. I hope the plotline's going all right so far and not too much OOC-ness...right? ^^;

            ~Ice


	10. Desperation is Fickle Friend

Chapter 6: Desperation is a Fickle Friend

~*~ Heart's Storm ~*~

            Ardice paced her room persistently. She was tired of being locked up all day, and she wanted to leave the Southern Palace. She wanted to find her friends, and she wanted to leave before her already-dangerous situation got worse. Ardice sighed as she sank into a chair, leaning her elbow on a nearby table-top. With her chin on one hand, she tried to evaluate her situation as fairly as she could. 

            Caged up in her room, she was oblivious to the outside world. There was no way she could solicit information from the servants without the action being reported to Sylvain, who would become suspicious. Questioning the soldiers was out of the question; even thinking about it was laughable. Ardice sighed–she had no news whatsoever about the Moon Queen and the Outers. She wasn't even sure whether they were alive or not. Each day she stayed there drove her closer to the edge of desperation and insanity, and she was brutally logical enough to admit that only one thing–one person–was keeping her from trying to leave, no matter how bad her odds were. And that was Sylvain.

            She wasn't sure why she hadn't asked _him_ about the Inner Princesses. She couldn't even remember if he had ever mentioned them to her, and she had never been inclined to bring up the topic. For one thing, it would arouse his suspicion, and she was reluctant to have him find out who she was. She didn't even want him hazarding a guess that she was one of the missing princesses. If he discovered the truth, the safe, (moderately) secure little world she had now would come crashing down... Ardice thought she knew enough about him to discern his reaction: everything between them would change. 

            His character demanded loyalty to his friends and his people. Duty, added to the strength of his commitment to the King of the Earth, would force him to overcome the feelings he had for her. She believed him when he said he loved her, because he wasn't the type to lie. But she was, she realized with a heavy sigh. On the Moon, she had been very much like him in that aspect, and she had never condoned telling falsehoods. On the Earth, she didn't have a choice, but she hated lying to him. And yet...

            Ardice couldn't believe that Sylvain supported the king's actions. He might have to obey, but she thought that, by analyzing his nature, he preferred peace and harmony. And some adventure, she corrected with a smile. She couldn't see him sitting around doing nothing; instead, he would spend his time doing worthwhile things that would benefit people other than him–most of the time. Ardice had loved to cook in her free time–not that she had ever really needed to, but because she enjoyed it. It was much of the same with Sylvain and his studies of astronomy, as well as his drawing. 

            She flattered herself that she knew about him, even though she was slightly unsure of her perceptions. She thought about him a lot of the time, when the memories of her friends and her old life became too intense. He was a good person. An extraordinarily good person. And while Ardice could identify some minor faults honestly, there was no integral part of him that she did not like and admire. She wished, as she had begun doing often, that they could have met under better circumstances. She also wished she hadn't given in the night before and admitted that she did love him. Truly, she did; she knew she did. But she shouldn't have said so. Her time was just about up, and when the time came for them to part, as it inevitably would, she would be hurting him much more than if she hadn't told him.

            At last, she gave in to the strong urge of peeking through the curtains at the guard stationed below. Never had a day gone by without her looking at them, even though she knew they would be there... She had never gone a day without seeing men in uniforms stationed on guard duty, but on Jupiter and the Moon, they had been there for protection of a princess rather than the prevention of a prisoner's escape. But to her immense surprise and vast delight, it appeared that they had gone. She waited several minutes; perhaps the new shift was a bit late. But she watched the entire afternoon, and no soldiers appeared beneath her window. She opened the door a slight crack and peered out into the empty hallway. The lure of freedom was so strong that Ardice had to use all her self-control and logic to close the door again, rather than bolt out. 

            Then she remembered that the guard at the door, and perhaps those under her window, must have been dismissed a long time ago–how else would Sylvain have been able to spend such a long portion of the night with her? Even the most solemn and close-mouthed of guards could tell tales once off-duty. The excitement racing through her veins was hot and triumphant, and her eyes sparkled enchantingly as she began planning her getaway. Still, Ardice had to push the thought of what Sylvain might say or do when he discovered her missing. She set her mind determinedly on the escape at hand and refused to think about him. But every so often, despair wormed its way into her heart, and she had to brush away the stray tears.

~*~~*~~*~~*~

            Sylvain had been occupied the entire day with the business of the South, much to his annoyance and disappointment. However, all the infuriating delays in the world couldn't have dampened his happiness–she loved him. He couldn't understand how he could be so lucky, and he knew there were too many problems to count, but for the moment, the fact that she loved him was all that mattered.

            Just as he thought he was free to leave, Marinel's faraway voice sounded in his mind, and the news he disclosed curtly and dispassionately had him reeling. She was the Jovian princess that was supposedly dead, even though no one had been able to recover the body. She could not be her. But everything fell into place...and he quickened his steps through the long corridors. He didn't bother to knock as he tried the door–and found it locked. After a few minutes spent calling her name and pounding on the door, he cursed under his breath and sent his power forth into the room. It was empty.

            He heard himself order a force dispatched into the woods around the palace, and he watched silently as a craftsman removed the door from the room. Sylvain took a brief look around and nodded shortly. It was empty, what he had expected, of course...and yet, his mind was numb from shock of betrayal. He would not go after her; he would until his troops brought her back. Even then, he was unsure of whether he could face her. he slammed the door to his own room shut and turned to face his expected solace...and looked into the adamant eyes of his sister Calandra. It seemed that today, the world would not leave him in peace. 

~*~~*~~*~~*~

            Her heart raced as she moved through the underbrush, aiming for speed rather than silence. She had set out in the cover of darkness, as late as she had dared, and managed to avoid the tower sentries. For the past week, things had been very quiet, and the people of Terra were beginning to relax. Perhaps things would go back to the way they'd been before...not so for herself, she knew. Garbed in riding clothes but horseless, Ardice plunged through the dry, crackling leaves with her basket swinging precariously on her arm. It contained the remnants of lunch and dinner, which she had eaten very little of, saving the rest for her trip.

            She didn't dare to teleport–he and the other King-Generals had found them once, and there was no one to sacrifice for her own safety this time. A cracking of a branch behind her alerted Ardice to the presence of company a split-second gloved hands reached out to clasp her by the shoulders and around the waist from the back. Other navy-clad shadows melted into existence, surrounding her and her captor. Ardice's spirits sank considerably, but her heart leapt as she squirmed around to confirm her guess of who had come to retrieve her. It fell heavily when she gazed into the eyes of someone unfamiliar, someone who was not Sylvain.

~*~ Avoiding the Inevitable ~*~

            Pyralis was exhausted, overworked, and in no mood to deal with his various retainers. When he had first arrived at the Eastern Palace, there had been no questions about Isadora's curious presence. The castle occupants were used to his bringing strange women about with absolutely no warning or explanation, and it was something Pyralis felt slightly uncomfortable about now. He had been avoiding Isadora's curious and slightly accusatory gaze the during breakfast, when he'd been trying to get things back in order after his absence. 

            Dealing with Isadora had slowed his normally quick progress. First, he had set her to a task he thought all noblewomen had perfected: needlework and embroidery. She had candidly informed him that she hated sewing. So he had suggested a walk in the gardens. That proposal had been turned down when he remembered that her skin was pale and whiter than usual after several epidermal layers had been burned off by the desert sun. At least, Pyralis consoled himself, his guest seemed happier at the sight of the clear blue skies and endless horizon of his Eastern home. Fresh out of alternatives by the second day, he had finally suggested that she help him with his paperwork. He grinned, recalling that horrified look on her face. It seemed that, as had been the case with sewing, Isadora was not a fan of pen and parchment–not that he disagreed. He liked indulging in neither of the two activities, particularly the former. He actually did know how to sew, for Sylvain had taught him one night during an elongated stay in the mountains. The blond general's clothing had been torn by his falling out of (and fooling around in) a tree, and he had not brought enough spare clothing to change. 

            Taking a break from his work, he stretched luxuriously, feeling the joints crack satisfyingly before settling back into more relaxed positions. Running his fingers through his sun-kissed blond hair, the King-General strolled out of his study whistling. He wondered briefly where Isadora was but shrugged his worries off. As it was, he had enough problems to take care of without thinking about the one she presented. Isadora herself was an exquisite problem. Pyralis had always had the opinion that all women were interesting, and if he deemed one exquisite, she was definitely something special. It was too bad that she was so temperamental, he thought regretfully. As he strolled onto one of the first-floor balconies, from which he could jump easily to the ground without hurting himself, the sound of wood hitting wood attracted his attention: surely enough, there was Isadora, with her lovely, glossy hair bound up out of her way as she wielded a sturdy wooden staff against one of the arms-master's students. 

            A few onlookers, others students, stood nearby. One of the younger boys was openly gawking as Isadora demonstrated her skills. Pyralis vaulted over the railing easily and would have interfered in the proceedings had not a lean arm barred his way. He looked into the eyes of the man who had trained him and stopped short. He hadn't even noticed the arms-master standing in the deepest shade of the trees, and he cursed his lack of awareness. Seeing approval, delight, and amusement in the older man's eyes as he nodded towards Isadora, Pyralis shrugged and settled back to watch too. 

            Before the rhythmic clacking of the sticks became soporific and predictable, the arms-master took up his own staff from the pile of neglected staffs (they had been practicing until Isadora had come along to watch longingly, her desire plain in her uniquely-hued eyes) and motioned his student aside. Isadora had not shown awareness of Pyralis's presence, but she could feel his stare. She was determined not to let it affect her as she faced the older man, and Pyralis watched intently as they began to spar. The arms-master forced his young opponent into revealing abilities she had not displayed before, and the intensity of her focus amazed him. During the short mock-fight, Pyralis began to swipe at his eyes with his sleeve, wondering if he was seeing things. There wasn't any sweat dripping in his eyes, and he wasn't having vision problems...but he must be imaging the faint aura of purple lit with crimson and gold fires around Isadora. Pyralis's specialty was auras, and if she really did have one, her control over hiding it was excellent.

            Before he could probe further, Isadora was disarmed, and the battle ended. The arms-master said a few things to her quietly that Pyralis could not hear, but she seemed pleased and bowed to him respectfully. They came up to the Eastern King-General together, and he couldn't help noticing that she looked much happier–elated, and her eyes were sparkling despite her exhaustion.

            The arms-master smirked. "Lady Isadora here is one unique lady, my lord. Not only did she teach my boys a lesson–that women can fight–she gave me a pause with a few of her techniques." Isadora smiled innocently. She hadn't revealed everything she had coaxed Martian and Lunarian fighters to teach her, but she hadn't been able to resist using some of her favorite moves. However, her happiness was short-lived, as his next words were, "Your lady is something special, Pyralis."

            She stiffened at his words and when Pyralis smiled, the outraged anger that blazed up in her eyes convinced him that not only was she special, unique, and beautiful, she was also dangerous, before her words ended any doubts he had about her disposition. Sharply, she bit off, "Your pardon, but I believe you are mistaken. I am not his lady, nor will I ever be. Excuse me."

            She stormed off with a glower directed in the blonde general's direction, and the half-amused, half-wincing look on Pyralis's face fueled her anger as the arms-master attempted to apologize to Pyralis. He stopped the apology midstream, clapped his teacher on the back, and strode off after the enraged lady–who was not his...yet, if he had any say in the matter.

~*~ Prince of Ice ~*~

            Marinel smiled when he reached the pre-arranged location for their meeting. He seemed to be becoming predictable, at least to Meriel: she was already waiting there for him, and even though he'd forgotten to tell her that he always went incognito, she was dressed in plain clothing: tan breeches and a white shirt. She turned to face him when she heard his footsteps and smiled in greeting. "Good morning, my lord."

            "Good morning. It seems you guessed my intentions...have you become a mind-reader then, Meriel?" Her smile grew wider as a light blush touched her cheeks, but Marinel added, "I thought I asked you to call me by my name, my lady."

            Obediently, she replied, "Good morning, then, Marinel." Meriel wasn't sure why it made a difference, but it seemed more personal when she called him by name. It was easier to maintain a nice, safe distance from him and his secretive, icy green eyes. Things were easier if she didn't think too much about him in general, but in truth, she had been doing just that–thinking about him–much more than she had intended to.

            "As long as we're on the subject of names, you probably know that I can't go walking around as Marinel if I want to have some peace and anonymity. You, of course, are fine. Meriel isn't a common name, exactly, but it'll do. We–the King Generals–have become all too conspicuous ever since we've become rulers in our own right," he grumbled. 

            Raising an eyebrow, she asked, "I suppose it's harder for you to travel around the realm in obscurity? And it must be harder to get things done and to escape your obligations at home. But if memory serves me right, the ceremony hasn't occurred yet."

            His expression darkened, changing from delight that she had understood his sentiment to ominous foreboding when she broached a subject he disliked. Curtly, he explained, "It isn't really the ceremony itself that's important. It's the fact that the king hasn't acknowledged who we are. The people see this as a lack of trust in us, and these days...well, let's just say that permanency and the expected are a good thing."

            "You don't like the king," Meriel observed quietly, matter-of-factly, her averted eyes all too astute.

            He was torn between disbelief and annoyance for a moment; disbelief that she had been able to discern his meaning without their ever discussing the subject before this, and annoyance because she had read his emotions so easily. Usually, he prided himself on being hard to interpret and even more difficult to comprehend. At last, he touched her gently on the arm, and she was startled into looking straight into his eyes. "We should go now."

            "Oh–yes." Quickly, she broke away from his almost-hypnotic gaze and forced a smile onto her face. "Well, what should I do?"

            "Nothing, really. Just be careful to stay with me–stay still and don't move away. We need to maintain physical contact." Again, Marinel took her hand, but this time, it remained in his grasp. "It's less unsettling if you close your eyes–or less exhilarating, or so Pyralis claims. But you can do whatever you feel more comfortable doing."

            She did close her eyes, as he kept talking, and when she felt the slightest, most careful tug she had ever felt at her senses, she gave herself over to his perfected control in peaceable surrender. As they teleported, Meriel found herself feeling as elated as she had the first time she had learned to teleport. Of course, she had felt quite differently about her teacher than she did about Marinel. She felt completely at home and even relaxed...and the fact that she was attracted to him–even if she wouldn't admit it to herself–was part of it, too. When she opened her eyes, just once, the dazzling green around her, lit with golden sparkles, enchanted her senses and drowned her in the indescribable part of Marinel that was his power.

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

            As they strolled along the boardwalk, Marinel began to wonder if he had made a mistake. Very few women were present at the wharves, and not many he knew would have tolerated the heavy, fishy, salty smell that permeated their surroundings. He wasn't sure why he had brought her here anymore. The other King-Generals knew about this retreat of his, working hard without his magic near the sea he loved best in complete obscurity, and while they had expressed similar desires for solace and escape, none of them had ever accompanied him here. It had always been a very private haven for him before, but something in him reached out imploring for understanding and a lack of condemnation. Never before had he discovered that in a woman, but when he snuck a sideways peek at Meriel, he was surprised to see that she seemed to be enjoying herself. 

            Marinel smiled wryly to himself: it was time he had learned to stop trying to predict the actions of this impossibly-surprising woman. He was relieved to see the fresh color in her cheeks, and the sparkling blue of her eyes matched the water in the distance as it curled up to the shore. Despite her healthy color, something about her always reminded him of delicate frailty that made him want to protect her. Again, a smile twisted his mouth: at her young age, she had already seen some of the worst things in the world, and she was crafty enough and strong enough to have survived thus far in her hostile environment. 

            There was a wistful look in her eyes as she turned to face him, although she smiled brightly. "I used to live by the sea. I've missed it so much...thank you for bringing me here."

            "My pleasure," he replied, filing away the information for future reference, "but here's where I, unfortunately, must desert you for a few hours. You'll be all right alone? I'll just be right over there if you need me." When she nodded encouragingly, not at all afraid and plainly eager to explore familiar territory, he turned to go. After a pause, he turned back. "Wait–I forgot to tell you one another thing. I was getting at it before, but I foundered off-track. You know we actually have public and given names. My public name has become all too well-known, so I've taken to using my given name around these men, and they don't suspect a thing. Either that or I'm a very conceited, very bad actor. I suppose they see me as someone who missed their true calling and can't stay away from the sea, so I pop up every so often to lend a hand and hear the news."

            Quickly, Meriel said, "You don't have to tell me your name if you don't want to. I understand."

            He smiled ironically. Of course she understood; she was in the same situation as he was. With a little more research, by this afternoon, he would know her true name. "No, I'd like to. It won't do much harm. It's Zoisite." With that, he loped off, leaving her standing there with a very strange expression on her face.

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

            "Zoisite," she murmured to herself, trying out the name. She stood for a few minutes, watching the regal bearing about him become less tangible as he boarded the walkway to a ship he obviously knew well easily. But it was still there, that effortless aura of power and control she had become so familiar with.  Several of the men greeted him warmly, and he responded in kind. Meriel was surprised to see the openness of his face and emotions as they talked and joked, and he listened avidly to the things they told him. She smiled fondly, wistfully. There was so much of him that she didn't know of and wanted to know about, but she knew such thoughts were dangerous. She should be dedicating  her time to more worthwhile things, like finding her friends and getting off Earth. Meriel walked along with an absent-minded look on her face, suddenly unable to enjoy herself. She knew where the queen and the Outer princesses were being kept–in the dungeons of the king's palace, located in Elysion. What she needed was a plan that would keep her head firmly situated on her shoulders and a means of getting to Elysion.

            Suddenly, loud, shouted warnings reached her ears, and she was jolted out of her reverie. Meriel turned instantly to the source of the trouble and saw a large apparatus, some type of machine designed to load heavy crates onto the ship, composed of pulleys and ropes. A few had snapped, and only a few of the side supports and the main rope held, and she could see it beginning to fray. Its load, a large, wooden box, was dangling precariously over the ship, threatening to drop at any minute and create a very large hole in the ship. If it did, it would most likely sink–or crush the men trying to hold it up and lower it slowly down first. Her heart pounded alarmingly as she recognized one of those foolish men, and her mouth went dry as she ran towards them, already knowing she would get there too late as the rope snapped. She cried out his name in warning before she realized that her desperate scream had left her throat, and as the thing came smashing down, Marinel's head jerked in her direction in an instinctual response to the name closest to his heart. Perhaps he would have gotten out of the way quickly enough if she hadn't distracted him...perhaps he wouldn't have. But the heavy cargo came down relentlessly, and the last thing he knew before total darkness was her voice and the sound of his name on her lips...

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

            Meriel reached the ramp just as the men were able to lift the heavy thing off Marinel. Already, some of the horrified bystanders had taken off their weather-worn hats in respect for one presumed dead, and she glared at them as the tears ran down her cheeks. "He's not–he's not dead?"

            One of the sailors, who bent over him, cast her a quick glance. "No," he said quietly, "but soon enough. His heartbeat's weakening."

            "No–he can't die!"

            "Listen, mistress, no one ever survived of an injury this bad."

            "Can a healer be found, a healer nearby–quick–"

            "No healer could bring him back except one of the King-Generals, and they're young and inexperienced. Besides, none of them would get here in time, and who could say they'd waste their time on a nobody like him?"

            Meriel clenched her fists at her side as she knelt beside him as well. "You don't understand! He _is_ a King-General!" Seeing their skeptical, startled looks, she exclaimed, "Oh, never mind! You won't help!" Closing her eyes, she dove forth with all her magic gathered around her, the power she had been so careful to hide from his notice...

            'I don't know how to heal. I can't do this! But he can't die...'

            All of a sudden, a wave of azure blue joined her own medium blue power. 'Who are you?' he asked in bewilderment.

            'It doesn't matter right now. Please–can you save him? Are you one of those linked to him–one of the King-Generals?'

            'Yes...I'm a King-General. But I can't heal.' Just as she was about to cry in frustration, he lifted her spirits when he added, 'But you can. You can save him. You aren't trained, but I can sense the innate healing power in you.'

            'I don't know how...'

            'I'll help you. I'll lend you the strength. And that of the other King-Generals.' She found globes of azure blue, navy blue, and silver-white hovering before her in her magical vision. 'But to bring him back, you'll have to go into him. Very deeply. And you'll have to link with him, and you may not survive. You may save him, but you could die. Or you'll still live, but you may not be able to bring him back. Or both of you could die. Are you willing to do it?' Pyralis asked urgently.

            'Yes. Please, help me.' And so he did. 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

            Isadora watched fearfully as Pyralis's features became lax as well. She waited in apprehensive silence, as did those around her. It seemed to take an eternity, but she didn't watch the miraculous healing that came over the fallen King-General. She watched the faces of her friend and Pyralis. And when Marinel awoke, he heard one more thing before he passed out again–her glad cry of Meriel's true name..."Ami!"

~*~ Falling in Love With Love ~*~

            Kiora had been looking into the distance, thinking about the flash of power she had felt through her connection to Meriel a few hours ago. All the power had dissipated quickly, but the aftereffects lingered, making her fingers and toes tingle and her eyes see tell-tale flashes of magic everywhere. Strangely enough, Roshaun had been talking to her when the sensation had come through their link, and he had cut himself off mid-sentence. When Kiora had been able to turn her attention back to him, he was stiff and immobile, not responding to her voice or touch. 

            When she had sharpened her magical vision, she had seen the waves of fog-colored power flowing from him in currents, and when she could no longer see the silvery-gray magic, sense returned to his eyes for a split second before he toppled from a standing position to the ground in a faint. Kiora rubbed her wrist, a wry smile on her hand–he was heavier than she'd expected, and her efforts to catch him had failed miserably.

            An hour later, he had woken up with a bump on the back of his head and a headache and had instantly demanded that she take him to see the king (his legs were too unsteady to support him at the moment, a consequence of him being drained of so much power). She had refused, and the resulting shouting-turned-wrestling match (when her vocal protests had failed, he had attempted to get out of bed on his own, and she had tried to discourage him) had ended with him tumbling out of the bed, half dragging the sheets with him as he staggered towards the door. Kiora had admitted defeat, helped him to the king's private chambers (with the help of a passing guard who had spotted them in the hallway), and then been asked to leave. As she shut the door behind her, she heard the squabbling begin and smiled grimly–it served Roshaun right for being so damned stubborn.

            Kiora sighed and tapped her fingers on the window ledge anxiously. She wanted to know what had happened wherever Meriel was and how it had been connected to Roshaun. Any minute now, she expected the King-General she was engaged to to come bursting in. She smiled complacently, for she had learned rather quickly that the best time to elicit information from Roshaun was when he was either under extreme duress or too angry to think straight. At any other time, he was much too impassive and in control of himself to let anything slip.

            The fond, soft smile on her face changed to a frown when she realized the direction of her thoughts–since when had she begun thinking of him in such personal terms? It was all his fault; everything that had happened to her was his fault. She would have to remember that; lately, it had been slipping from her mind quite easily. 

            Roshaun, for some inexplicable reason, had been going out of his way to spend time with her: an occasional meal, a few hours in the afternoon, or a nighttime stroll in the gardens. Kiora had quickly discovered that determinedly ignoring him for several hours straight and sitting/walking in silence was not going to work. Gradually, he had somehow gotten her to talk and been so unusually amiable that she had found herself looking forward to his visits. Goddess knew she was bored enough to...well...do something drastic. No one would tell her anything about the Moon Queen and her whereabouts, not even the stupidest, slimiest courtier. Well, why should they? She'd only been going completely out of her way and practically losing all of her dignity, playing up to them. Kiora glared at her reflection and turned her thoughts away from the courtesans–they were all too well trained, like human lap dogs. 

            Roshaun came to her–but she never went to him. She watched what he did sometimes, without his knowing it, but she would never let herself go to him. Roshaun had an impossible amount of work, as well as an impossible number of nagging amount of ambassadors, secretaries, and messengers whose sole purposes in life seemed to be to make things harder for him. Despite all his setbacks and frustrations, however, he never let his implacable control over his face and his emotions slip. Idly twirling a few strands of blond hair around her finger, Kiora wondered if he ever screamed himself hoarse in some private, soundproof place. She knew she would have, if she had to deal with as many things as he did. At any rate, he was always the same when he came to her–his impassive face melting to show emotion, his blank gray eyes slowly coming to life. And, speak of the devil, there he was, knocking loudly at the door and entering before she answered it. He never came in without knocking. He'd also never come in without her permission, but it looked as though there was a first time for everything.

            Roshaun stormed over to her before she had time to get up and gripped her shoulders. "I'm going to ask you something, and you're going to answer me quickly–without lying."

            Her face, which had filled with confusion and annoyance, quickly cleared of all emotion except innocence. "What are you talking about, Roshaun? Is it something the king told you about me? Because he doesn't like me at all, you know, and–"

            "I can tell he doesn't like you!" he hissed. "If I hadn't had some of my best people keeping an eye on you, you would have been dead by now!"

            Oh. So he did know about those assassination attempts. Damn. But he had actually helped keep her alive instead of helping the king? That was something. "Are you spying on me?" she asked coldly, completely ignoring his first question. He made a strange noise, something that sounded partly like an enraged exhalation of air and a small scream of frustration, and she took the opportunity to slip out of his hold. He sat down across from her and glared at her intently, while Kiora tried to think about what important things she could have lied to him about recently. To her surprise, she discovered that she hadn't–well, not _true_ lies...everything she had told him had been mostly true. 

            "You know, if you _want_ to die, you could have told me earlier and saved me some trouble. But no. You go around with absolute no concern for your safety, poking into matters which you should leave alone! If you _ask_ people about the Moon Queen, do you think they're going to forget about it?"

            "I thought I was being subtle!"

            "Well, apparently you weren't subtle enough! Your idea of subtle must be announcing all your private business to the world!"

            "Well, what do you care anyway?" Kiora asked in a rude tone, perfectly aware of how ridiculous they sounded.

            Roshaun glared at her for a few minutes before he asked quietly, "Are your friends alive, Kiora? The other Inner Princesses? Were you lying when you swore they were dead?"

            She turned pale, and more silence ensued between them. Kiora fidgeted nervously, wishing that his eyes wouldn't bore into her like that. And she wished that he hadn't been able to put so much weight on the matter. 

            "I'm waiting for your answer," he said softly.

            "No," she whispered.

            "No what? No, you weren't lying, no they're not dead? Which one is it?"

            She sat up straight and looked straight into his eyes convincingly. "No, I wasn't lying." She was shocked when he cursed viciously.

            "Damn it, Kiora, if you aren't going to trust me, I can't help you!"

            "What are you talking about?"

            "He–the king–knows that they're alive, Kiora. He knew that you were lying. And he knows perfectly well where all your friends are. Do_ you_ know where they are, Kiora?"

            She shook her head, closed her eyes tightly, and wondered if she had ever seen him so angry before–she hadn't.

            "They're at the Southern, Eastern, and Northern Palaces. Each of them with a King-General. And each of them are being watched very carefully. And the traps are going to be sprung very soon, Kiora. Now you get to choose: you tell me the truth and help me, or you can stick to the story you've been telling and die."

            Kiora was dead white by this time, but her eyes had opened, and she was no longer afraid. "Fine. I lied. Are you going to help me save them now?"

            "Yes."

            "Why?"

            He found that he didn't have an answer...

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

AN: I'm very sorry it took an incredibly long time to get this chapter out...but we're nearing the end. I know things are very messy and pretty illogical, and I have to admit, I don't know if they're going to be sorted out. But the end is coming soon, if you stick through another two or three chapters (I promise), and then an epilogue of sorts. Thank you for reading,

            ~Ice


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